Constant Companion
by Sybilia
Summary: Maura's coming out has made Jane question everything she thought she knew about herself while the team investigates a series of murders involving the decendants of the Mayflower. A real slow burner.
1. Chapter 1

Maura Isles lay in bed, rigid, fists clenched at her sides, gritting her teeth as she contemplated the woman snoring softly beside her. The pounding rain from the night before had ended and the day's first sunbeams cautiously poked their way through the slats in her bespoke window blinds. She hadn't slept all night. She arose early the previous morning, ran 4 miles, worked a full day (including a crime scene and complete autopsy), conducted her weekly assessment meeting with her interns, had a drink with Jane, Barry, and Vince at the Dirty Robber and then went on to Merch alone. She had been awake for 25 hours, but packed more into that time than the average person does in two full days. She fought a growing irritation that threatened to bloom into a full-fledged tantrum if she couldn't get herself under control.

_This is merely a dip in serotonin due to lack of sleep. I'll catch up this weekend and be just fine. _

Having a rational, scientific reason for her feelings always calmed Maura, and she felt her spine soften just a little. She commenced yogic breathing; in through the mouth, out through the nose. She unfurled her fists and lay her palms atop her bare, flat abdomen, feeling her diaphragm expand and contract with each breath. She imagined the air filtered through the clean, pink alveoli of her lungs, and her jaw relaxed. She visualized the gas exchange in her pulmonary capillaries, the oxygenated blood rushing out to energize every part of her body and she sighed.

"Hey," came the sleep-heavy voice from beside her. The woman rolled on her side toward Maura and ran her hands through her own messy, dark hair. A small beam of sunshine chose that moment to sluice the dim air of the bedroom and illume Maura's king-size bed. The woman squinted against the intrusive beam and attempted to bury her face in Maura's soft ivory neck to avoid waking fully. Maura stiffened again her careful, meditative calm was destroyed because in the moment the sun glanced off the warm olive skin and dark eyes of her bedmate, all she could think was, "Not Jane, not Jane. Not even close."

Maura wanted this woman, this pseudo-Jane, to leave. She had wanted her to go as soon as she had climaxed, and free from the desperate need of her libido, she became once again herself, her own solitude-loving, rational self. But it had rained heavily last night, great torrents of rain that threatened to overpower windshield wipers, even at their highest settings. And so, Maura, with her kind heart, allowed, no insisted, that the woman, who lived up in Revere, stay until it was safe to leave.

_Men are so much easier. If she were a man, she'd be gone, rain, sleet, snow or... _

"Mmmm," the dark woman hummed against Maura's neck and began moving her mouth down across a freckled collarbone and onto the softer, whiter skin of a heavy breast.

Maura felt her spine stiffen again, but this time it was not anger and frustration that tightened her latisimus dorsi, obliques and serrator muscles, it was the libidinous arching of her back as she strained to get one pink nipple into the woman's wet mouth. As she felt the familiar warm slickness trickling from her sex, she knew that maybe it would be enough for today to see that dark, curly head between her thighs and to pretend yet again that it was the insistent rhythm of Jane's tongue and Jane's fingers that brought her over the edge into ecstasy.

* * *

An hour later they sat, fully dressed, across from one another in Maura's spacious kitchen, drinking their second cup of french-press coffee. Maura's smile was more of a grimace and she worked her hands like Lady Macbeth in an unconscious act of ablution. It was not blood, but lady cum on her soft, clean hands.

_Lady cum. Argh. _She flinched at the phrase and began searching the well-ordered library that was her mind for the proper, scientific term.

S_qualene_.

She relaxed her hands, satisfied until she remembered there was still a stranger in her kitchen, a stranger who had brought her to orgasm twice in the past 6 hours and to whom she owed... what? Another cup of Gevalia coffee? Breakfast? An hour of conversation? Maura didn't know and her social anxiety welled up in her like an ill-chewed bit of food caught in her esophagus. She swallowed hard to dislodge the metaphorical lump in her throat.

If only this were Jane, there would be no unease and a surfeit of laughter and comfort. Or if not Jane, any Rizzoli, even Tommy, would be preferable to this shorter, heavier, and, Maura now noticed with chagrin, considerably younger Not Jane.

"Yeah, so after college I started working at the bar." The final word was pronounced like the sound a sheep makes. Maura cringed inwardly at the brutal ugliness of the blue-collar Boston accent, an accent neither she nor, surprisingly, Jane, shared.

_Worse than Brooklyn, but not as bad as Long Island_, she mused, constructing a quick regional dialect map in her mind.

"Yeah, so that's been over 2 years now and I'm still a baaaa-back. Economy sucks," said Not-Jane.

"Two years?" Maura quirked an eyebrow, suddenly drawn into the conversation. "So you're...24?"

"23... community college, and it took a bit longer. I'm not that smart," smart rhymed with "cat" in Not Jane's voice.

"I'm 40." Maura blurted, blushing and fighting the urge to cover her mouth.

"No shit. " Not-Jane's eyes widened, "You look wicked good. Really. My ma's 42 and she could totally be your mother."

That admission was enough to whisk away the social niceties on Maura's part and she quickly stood and straightened her skirt.

"Well, I have to get to work and so..." She gestured to the door, quickly planning to swing by the morgue to recheck Susie Chang's toxicology screens from the previous week, thereby avoiding having told a white lie and risking a case of hives or worse, a vasovagal episode. Jane called them vasi-vaginas, much to Maura's delight, as in her mind Jane and vagina went hand in hand like Watson and Crick or Pierre and Marie Curie.

"Yeah, so, umm, I'll put my number in your iphone and we can get together whenever you like," said Not-Jane.

Maura smiled slightly, unable to summon the backbone to decline. So there she stood in her kitchen, the imposing Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, accomplished, genius, beautiful, middle-aged Maura Isles, afraid to break up with her one-night stand. She smiled wanly, but inside she cringed.

* * *

Angela Rizzoli was always an early riser, a habit acquired when she had 3 young children and a cranky, demanding husband at home. Now she was used to rising with the sun and sharing her morning coffee with those nice kids on Good Morning America. She stood at the sink, listening to the cheerful banter on her TV and glancing out her kitchen window at the junker parked in Maura's driveway. Setting aside the mug she was rinsing, she stepped outside just as the doctor and her overnight guest were exiting the main house.

"Good Morning, Maura. Why are you dressed for work on such a beautiful Saturday?"

"Oh, I... I have a few things to check on and then I will be back."

"And this young lady must be one of your interns? An ambitious one. Did she stop by to bring an apple for the teacher? Or a soy latte?"

Maura's face was frozen in an expression mid way between terror and flabbergastedness. She was physically unable to lie and yet she wanted desperately to not blurt out the truth. She bit her lip and moaned a little as she realized she didn't even know the woman's name to foster an introduction. Mercifully, Angela changed the subject not even realizing the discomfort of her interlocutor.

"So, my Janie is in love. I've already started knitting booties for the grandbabies."

Maura's mouth twitched and she hugged herself tightly around the waist. She would almost rather discuss her weekly trips to Merch and all the anonymous lesbian sex she'd been having than Jane and her romance with Casey Jones.

Angela mistook her dejection for worry and reached out to pull Maura into a clumsy one-armed hug.

"Don't worry, sweetie. Casey is going to pull through that surgery just fine and he and Janie will live happily every after. I've been talking to the Blessed Mother every day and I just know she will answer my prayers. The Virgin Mary will fix Casey's penis."

Angela's smile sagged as she noticed the pained look in Maura's golden eyes. "Doctor, he will pull through, right? And if they can't fix it, they can still have babies, right?"

"You're a doctor?" Not-Jane piped in for the first time.

"Hey, if she's your intern, how come she doesn't know you're a doctor? What does she think you are? Some kind of undertaker?"

"She's not my intern." Maura stated, but elaborated no further. "And one does not need a penis to have a baby."

Before Angela could utter another word on either subject, Maura had turned and was hurrying toward her Prius, her four inch Jimmy Choos clicking away on the pavement.


	2. Chapter 2

Jane was at her desk by 5:00 am drinking burned black coffee and going over the files from 2 unrelated homicides she'd been assigned the previous week By 8:00, her eyes were burning and the stabbing in Beacon Hill was bleeding into the shooting in Roxbury. This was her weekend off and she should be sleeping until noon, running errands, hanging with Maura.

"Your mother's ass!" Jane, startled, spilled her coffee across all the paperwork for both cases as well as on herself and the floor.

"Maur, what the hell?"

"Jane, you spilled your beverage. I didn't nor did my mother with her derriere."

Maura was already squatting, picking up the Styrofoam cup.

"You snuck up on me. You're off the weekend. Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Maura countered.

Jane grinned and Maura found the tension loosening in her neck.

"Couldn't sleep," they said in near unison.

Maura smiled, "I'm going to check on the DNA sequencing Susie began yesterday and then I am going to start my weekend over. Breakfast?"

"Sure." Jane agreed. "McDonald's on me."

"I was thinking we could go to the farmer's market on Boylston and pick up some fresh herbs, soft cheese and bread. I'll make an omelet and we could eat in my back garden."

"Mmm. Sounds romantic."

"What?" Maura spun wide-eyed.

"A joke, Maur. Relax. You're so touchy and squirrely lately."

Maura stopped, a look of genuine puzzlement in her eyes. "Squirrely, as in collecting acorns to store for the winter? Or is that a new slang that I have yet to learn?"

"Yes, Maura. Your obvious hoarding of nuts and berries in your cheek pouches has me worried and you haven't learned old slang yet, forget about the new." Jane draped her long arm over her friend's shoulder and guided her toward the elevators.

* * *

"This is really good, Maur. Your eggs de Provence sure beats an Egg de Muffin." Jane smiled between large bites of omelet.

"Oh, Jane. This is not made with Herbes de Provence, which are typically dried and contain savory, fennel, basil, and thyme. I used fresh dill and rosemary, though rosemary and savory are both members of the Lesbia, no, Labia...um, Labiatae family, also known as the Lamiaceae family, they are distinct and neither is related to dill, which is used primarily in Northern European cooking, whereas Provence is in the far south of France. Though rosemary is typically used in heartier dishes, the woodsy scent combined with the clean odor of dill to my palate..."

Jane grabbed her wrist and gave it a firm shake.

"Maur, Maura. Enough. You are going into one of your googlemouth seizures. Come on. Stop filling the air with facts and tell me what you're hiding."

Maura dropped her eyes to her plate, silently running her fork through the remnants of her breakfast. A full minute passed and then two. She felt the burn of Jane's espresso colored eyes somewhere north of her hairline, willing her to look up. She continued to toy with her cold eggs.

"Ok. I'm a detective, so here's what I've come up with. One, you've been acting very strange lately and not 'Maura strange,' which is normal for you; just strange. Two, your car was not here last night when I drove by to check on you. Three, your car was here early this morning when I made my morning pass to check on you as was another vehicle, registered to Ed and Donna Maguire, 46 and 42 respectively, of Revere Mass."

Maura peeked up through her lashes, feeling a bit more confident, but still unwilling to meet Jane's gaze.

"So your conclusion, detective?"

" I think you are caught up in something with Paddy Doyle. Some favor, some misplaced loyalty. They're dangerous people, Maur."

"The Maguires?" Maura asked, genuinely confused.

"Er, no. Maybe," Jane hedged, "Ed and Donna both have DWIs, one daughter Melissa has a DWI and a public lewdness charge."

_Melissa…I must have slept with Melissa._

The doctor rolled the name around in her head, but came up with no immediate connections, except maybe to Debussy's opera Pelléas et Mélisande which she had never cared for.

She looked up with assurance now and met Jane's concerned look, confident her secret was safe.

"Countless studies have linked alcoholism to a genetic marker. It really is no surprise that 3 members of the same family would have the same problem."

"Mauuuuuura," it came out a growl.

"Jane," Maura purred, a kitten next to Jane's raspy lion, "This has nothing to do with Paddy Doyle, crime, organized or, or, or scattered, messy... disorganized."

Maura took a deep breath and decided to tell as much of the truth as she dared. "I went to a bar last night and met someone. We came back to my home and had sex. No names were exchanged. I can honestly say that I have never heard of any of the Maguires."

Jane flushed and sputtered. "Well, ok then. You screwed some guy and I have completely embarrassed myself by running his plates. I'm sorry, Maur. I hope it raised your immuno-goblins and warded off any colds that may have been coming your way."

Silence. "Um, Maur?"

"Yes, Jane."

"I saw his license photo and he is so NOT cute. I can't imagine getting all horny for that."

Maura shrugged, deciding to let a bit more truth out into the open. "I was lonely, Jane." Maura sighed, unconsciously twisting her napkin and staring away at the lilac and forsythia, her eyes now a soft grey-green in the dappled light.

"You've found your love. You have Casey and I am alone."

She was in Jane's arms immediately, the force with which she was embraced knocking a puff of breath from her lips. Jane's long fingers rubbed arcs of comfort up her spine as she whispered warmly, her lips against Maura's ear.

"Oh my sweet girl, you will always have me. I love you. You are my best friend. I love you."

"I love you too, Jane." Maura murmured and though the words were true down to the marrow of her bones; in context, they felt like a lie. She felt an itch under the collar of her jacquard print silk blouse and she knew that if she looked in a mirror she would find a row of raised red welts.


	3. Chapter 3

Jane collapsed onto her own couch with a beer some 10 hours later. Flipping on the television to the highlights of the Red Sox game, she swung her coltish legs unto the coffee table and let out a tremendous belch. Jo Friday lifted her head at the sound and gave Jane a long look before nestling back down in a tan ball.

"You spend too much time with Maura, Jo. You think you're a lady now? We're just two guys here in our bachelor pad."

She took a long swig of her Corona and belched again for emphasis.

_Maura. What to do about Maura?_ She spent the day with her friend, doing Maura things; shopping, pedicures, yoga, trying her best to make the other woman feel cared for. Yet it was clear to Jane that the doctor was hurting and she felt like a complete idiot for not picking up on it sooner. She is a detective, for Christ's sakes, yet she had constructed an elaborate scenario of Maura going rogue with Paddy Doyle to explain her friend's change in behavior rather than face the truth. She was merely missing her best friend, her only friend.

Jane had been a shitty friend lately. She'd been a shitty colleague, sister and daughter as well. It had to stop. She had to bite the bullet, take the bull by the horns, shit or get off the pot. It was time to dredge up all those icky feelings in her gut and figure out if she was in love with Casey, if he was worth waiting for, and the reason she acted like a complete asshat to everyone else in her life when he was around.

Blech. It was too much for a lazy Saturday night and she was exhausted. She wished she had stayed at Maura's; she always slept better there on the 1,000-count sheets with the little medical examiner curled peacefully into her side. Jane smiled at the thought. The Casey question could wait until tomorrow. Tonight she would have one more beer, maybe two and fall asleep to ESPN. She'd run in the morning to clear her head and then force herself to unravel the complex knots of the Casey conundrum before Rizzoli Sunday dinner at Maura's.

There was one more thing she could do to relax. It was Saturday night and she deserved it. She slowly undid the heavy stainless steel clasp of her belt buckle and opening the top two buttons of her jeans, slid her slim hand down between the rough denim and her own softer skin. When she arched her back in release Casey Jones was the furthest thing from her mind.

* * *

The floor- to-ceiling mirror in Maura's walk-in closet (really a spare bedroom decked out to accommodate her massive shoe collection and the current season of her wardrobe) reflected its owner sitting on her plush rug, nursing an oversized goblet of deep red wine, a lovely Côtes du Rhône she had discovered on her last trip to France. Her Sunday night ritual included the careful planning of her outfits for the coming week. She had to take into account the weather forecast, scheduled meetings and her own menstrual cycle as well as prepare for the unexpected: a difficult body retrieval, messy crime scene or pop up thunder shower. To Maura, it was a convergence of mathematics and art; plug in the variables, procure a set of acceptable options and narrow those options with an aesthetic eye. It was, in many ways, her favorite part of the week. Her habits were so different from Jane's, who would wake up late, thrust her hand into her closet and pull out one of a dozen black or navy pant suits and pair it with whatever t-shirt was least wrinkled and her heavy-soled boots or Steve Madden loafers. "Oh, Jane...," Maura sighed into the empty air.

She stood finally and picked up a Marni floral print silk dress and a pair of Ferragamo platform pumps in a pale bisque, hoping the light, airy fabric and cheerful pattern would have a salubrious effect on her sagging spirits. This would be Monday's selection; she would start of the week with a soft and carefree look. The face reflected back at her in the mirror was nothing near carefree.

She tilted her head and extended her hand to her reflection, "Dr. Maura Isles, lesbian Medical Examiner. You're a big dyke, Maura Isles. Gay, gay, gay Maura. The Isles of Lesbos." She frowned slightly; that last moniker had painful associations from her school days. She took a deep, calming breath, straightened her shoulders and forced herself to meet her reflected gaze. "The truth shall set you free." The reflected Maura nodded back in agreement.

Maura picked up the phone and without hesitation dialed the international code for Switzerland followed by the digits for the Baur au Lac Hotel in Zurich.

"Guten Morgen," a clipped, professional voice answered.

"Bitte, Ich möchte mit Constance Isles sprechen." Maura replied in perfect German.

She almost hung up before her mother's voice came on the line, only the thought of Constance's fear after getting a dropped call so early in the morning kept her from slamming the receiver down and pushing her news back into the compartment in her mind, a compartment into which it no longer comfortably fit.

"Dr. Isles." came Constance's sleepy voice across the miles.

"Mother? It's Maura."

"Maura, darling," Constance sounded instantly alert, "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Mother, just fine. I...I have some news that I wanted to share with you."

"So early?" Constance mused. "This must be something grand. A professional accolade? No, you are already at the top of your profession. Unless...did President Obama appoint you the Surgeon General of the United States?"

Maura smiled to herself. Constance was not a warm person, was rather cool and distant for all of Maura's formative years and most of her adult as well, but that her mother would think that such an appointment was within the realm of possibility for her daughter attested to maternal love and pride, deeply hidden, but there nonetheless.

"No, Mother, this is news of a rather personal nature."

Maura had been staring at her new pedicure, a pale baby blue, the most soothing color, which was why she selected it that afternoon at the salon with Jane. The shiny blue polish had mesmerized her, bringing to mind the Zürichsee, which was visible, she knew, from her mother's hotel room. This led to thoughts of Alberich Zwyssig, the composer of the Swiss Palm, Switzerland's national anthem, and all the lonely preteen hours she'd spent listening to her "National Anthems of the World" album, sitting in her dark closet, knees pulled up to her chest, headphones clamped tightly to her ears.

"Maura, Maura. Are you there?" Constance's voice brought her out of her stupor.

Looking up, Maura realized she was still standing in the middle of her closet. Taking a ceremonial step out, she announced, "Mom, I'm gay."

"I know, darling. A mother always knows these things. So, I suppose you are calling to tell me you are going to marry your detective and you would like to use the house on the Cape. Email me your prospective date and I will clear my schedule. Now let me speak with Jane. I should offer her my congratulations."

Stunned and speechless, Maura walked to her bed and placing her hand on it, as if to convince herself it was solid and present, she sat on the edge of her mattress.

"Jane, Jane, it's Constance. Are you there Jane? Maura?.." came the voice from her handset. Maura stared at the phone as if it were a strange piece of medical equipment that she had not yet been trained to use.

"Mom. Jane is straight. Well, I don't actually know that. She is probably not completely straight, but she isn't out. We're not together, though it's what I want. I'm not sure Jane is even aware that she's gay. "

Constance let out one heavy breath.

"Really, Maura. Jane is about as unaware that she's gay as I am unaware that I'm rich."

"What should I do, Mom? I love her."


	4. Chapter 4

Rizzoli Sunday dinner was often the only time that Angela saw her offspring. She planned for it all week, shopping at 3 different Italian specialty stores, because pasta, bread and cheese bought at the local supermarket was just not good enough. Tonight she would serve linguini with white clam sauce, followed by veal cutlets and potatoes and finally a nice panecotta with fresh berries. Several loaves of bread and a large bowl of tomato salad was served with every meal, all four Rizzolis happily tearing off chunks of Moretti twist bread and dunking it into the brine.

Maura smiled to herself as she remembered the first time she was included in Rizzoli Sunday, back when it was still held at the small Rizzoli home in the North End and how Jane had very seriously demonstrated to her the proper technique for dunking; "Maur, you have to make sure you get a piece with enough insides so it gets a good soak, then you place it in the bowl, touching both tomato and Bermuda onion, you let it sit until you feel it grow heavy in your fingers and then..." Jane pulled her hand from the heaping bowl brandishing a dripping bread hunk, "You suck out some of the juice and only when it's all bready again, you chew and swallow." She had practiced the dunking ritual several times that week with a French baguette and a bowl of water so that she wouldn't embarrass Jane, the nerdy WASP friend who couldn't even eat tomato salad the correct way. She realized that she must have loved Jane even then, that she had been carrying this love around with her for years.

The doctor sat back in her favorite armchair and turned her head toward her friend. Jane was draped over one end of the sofa, her long legs pulled under her, shaggy black head bent in concentration. The detective was like a jungle cat; she moved with the languid gracefulness of a panther, her strong muscles rippling and relaxing under warm tanned skin. Her mind too was feline: quick, reflexive, adaptive, intuitive; it was what made her so good at her job. Maura closed her eyes and allowed herself a private brief moment, not even a fantasy, just an image of Jane lowering her lean, sleek body onto her own.

_I bet Jane Rizzoli fucks like a tigress._

She forced her eyes open and stood to help Angela in the kitchen. She would need to occupy her mind and hands with busy work until she was under control and able to sit near her friend again.

The elder Rizzoli hummed happily to herself as she minced garlic, fried veal and chopped onion. She lived for this day and having a kitchen as large, well-stocked and equipped as Maura's with all of the finest appliances only added to the pleasure of feeding her family. She glanced into the living room where Tommy and Frankie were absorbed in a rather loud movie featuring enormous robots while Jane scowled at her ipad, angrily swiping her finger across the glass.

"Fuck. Maur, come use your giant brain and get me to the next level of Candy Crush. I'm stuck here for like 3 weeks."

Tommy lifted one denim clad butt cheek and moved imperceptively closer to his brother. A moment later, Frankie jumped from his seat, "Dude. That is so wrong. I can't believe you farted in front of Dr. Isles. She's a lady."

"Yeah, Tommy, pig." Jane swatted at her youngest brother half-heartedly.

"Spoken by the woman who held me down just last week and "Dutch Ovened" me until my eyes watered."

Jane flushed immediately, a fact noticed by the very observant doctor.

_Hmmm, a flush could indicate arousal, anger, embarrassment... Embarrassed_, Maura decided, but her curiosity couldn't let it alone.

"Jane, I don't understand how a large cooking pot fits into this conversation, but I'm sure I am missing something."

"Forget it, Maura." Jane growled.

Tommy was only too happy to explain. "A dutch oven is when you fart and then trap the other person under a blanket with the smell. They gotta breathe, and under the blanket it gets all hot and juicy and nasty."

Maura nodded her understanding and turned to Jane, unable to resist teasing the mortified detective. "Jane, I certainly hope you never cook me in a dutch oven during one of our sleepovers."

"Maura, I...I would never do that to you." she stammered.

"Well," Frankie added. "Maybe she'll get you, Janie, now that we've taught her."

"Nah, Maura doesn't fart. She's a cyborg." Jane nudged her friend with her elbow.

"Actually, Jane, everyone passes gas. On average 13 times a day and research shows that although men emit a greater volume, the chemical composition of women's flatus is actually more pungent."

"Who would research such a thing?" Jane asked, her face screwed up with disgust.

"And how?" Frankie added.

Tommy struggled to find something worthy of the woman he idolized. "I bet Doctor Isles's farts smell like roses and ...and vanilla ice cream."

"Fine French perfume." Frankie added.

"Rosemary and dill." Jane chimed in.

Maura blushed, but not from embarrassment. A friendless, only child, she was thrilled to be accepted as part of this loud, loving clan.

Angela smiled at her family and returned to the kitchen. "Five minutes till dinner. Put your toys away and wash your hands."

They had barely finished the pasta course when Jane's phone blared "Total Control" by the Clash.

"That's dispatch." She met the ME's eye across the table. Within a beat Maura's phone joined in with Birgit Nilsson singing "Hojotoho!" from Die Walküre.

"We have a murder." Jane said, pushing away from the table. "Holworthy Street, Roxbury. Weren't we just there last week?"

Angela hid her disappointment behind a stern look, "Girls, don't change in the car this time. It's dangerous."

"And weird." Tommy added, reaching for Jane's unfinished dish.


	5. Chapter 5

Frost and Korsak were first on the scene, arriving as the EMT team was still packing up; a portable defibrillator unit sat on the curb next to an empty Camel cigarette pack, a bag of Cheetos and dozens of open absorbent pads. This street looked very much like every other in this neighborhood: a treeless expanse of brick 12-flats, some better kept than others, each fronted by a heavy security door and a set of uneven concrete steps. The young man lay sprawled on his back, eyes open and fixed on the sky, wearing what was once a grey BCU t-shirt and swimming trunks. Korsak stared at the still body.

"Is it my imagination or does he look exactly like the vic from last week? Same block, too, though he was shot across the street and 30 yards down. No ID on this guy, but my money is on that he's related to Prior Smoot."

"Damn, do we all look alike to you?" Frost pushed at his shoulder with mock anger, but the appearance of one dimple gave him away.

"Nah, it's the eyes. He's got green eyes, just like the Smoot kid last week." Korsak wiped the back of his head with a rumpled handkerchief. "As soon as Jane and the doc get here, we can start the ball rolling and find out if I'm right. Someone here knows him." Korsak scanned the small crowd being held back from the scene by uniforms.

Moving carefully through the crowd were Detective Rizzoli and Doctor Isles, the larger woman holding the M.E.'s elbow and simultaneously shielding her with her body as they threaded their way through a particularly rowdy group of onlookers.

"Yo, po-po, a black man can't get a break in this town. Whatcha gonna do bout it?"

"Big dyke po-liceman, you on a date with you lady? Haha, next time take her sumplace bettuh."

Jane stared straight ahead. "Keep moving, Maur." She whispered through clenched teeth.

"Area unjam!" Maura replied, her eyes sparkling with mirth as she met Jane's poker face.

"WTF, Maur?"

"It's an anagram of our names and it seemed appropriate as you did get us through that human log jam."

"Do you lay awake at night thinking of stuff like this?"

Maura cocked her head, looking thoughtful. "Yes. Sometimes I do."

"We're here." Maura announced, slipping on latex gloves and squatting next to the body. She duck- walked around him once before settling at his left side and carefully lifting up his rapidly stiffening shirt.

"Cause of death is that massive chest wound." Jane stated.

"I can't confirm that until after the autopsy." Maura clipped.

"Can you confirm that the substance oozing from the wound is, in fact, blood?"

Maura looked at her through narrowed eyes and attempted her best sneer.

"Really, Maur, your mean face is about as terrifying as a puppy chasing its own tail."

Frost appeared at her side, looking grim. "We have a name: Prescott Smoot, 19, older brother of Prior. Apparently he spent the day doing laps at the Melnea Cass pool, swims competitively for BCU."

"Mother's on her way, she cleans offices downtown nights and weekends." Korsak added. "Well, let's get him into a bus. She shouldn't have to see him all bled out in the gutter. You done here, Maura?"

"No. Not even close."

Jane stamped an impatient foot and rolled her eyes. "Frost, keep a look out for the mother. I'll try to keep Dr. Frankenstein from overanalyzing."

"Your teasing and huffing will not make me cut corners, Jane. If you want to help, get me that thermometer from my bag."

Maura hummed happily to herself; a stranger on the street saw Jane, saw them, for what they were. Hope fluttered in her heart and she imagined a blood analysis would show an increase in her oxytocin level.

* * *

"Mauuuuuraaaa," Jane growled as she paced the autopsy suite, "I need that bullet."

"All things in good time." was the M.E.'s calm reply, followed by the whirr of a circular saw and a wet, slapping sound as it quickly bit through flesh, whining in a higher register when it hit bone.

"Oh Jesus." Frost gulped, turning away from the table.

"Are you okay, Barrold? Do you want to lie down in my office? Jane could bring you a cool, damp cloth for your head." Maura looked at him with sympathy.

"No, no, Doc. Your face, ugh." He winced as the doctor's expression changed from concern to hurt.

Frost realized his mistake and amended, "No, not your face, which is beautiful as always. The face mask, how can you stand it?"

Maura looked at him curiously, blood, skin and pieces of bone sliding down the full plastic face shield that covered her from the top of her head to her neck.

"If I didn't wear this, Barrold, I would have all of this in my hair and eyes." She gestured vaguely around her head as one particularly wet piece fell from the mask and hit the table with a splat.

"I'm going to lose it, Jane." He turned for the door.

"Go, Frost. I got this. I'll text you when we have something." Jane turned to Maura with a chuckle, "I've never seen a black man turn so green."

Maura wasn't listening, the bone saw cutting out any attempt at conversation. "Jane, help me crack open the chest."

Jane obliged.

"He has admirable lung capacity, combined with his well-defined long muscles, broad shoulders and narrowed waist, I would have hypothesized that he was a swimmer."

"Isn't that the same as a guess, Maur?"

"Absolutely not."

Maura worked her gloved right hand between the pink lungs and into the pulpy mass that was once a healthy human heart. After a minute she withdrew, a small bullet between her thumb and index finger.

"Looks like the .380 from his brother's murder. Want to bet it's fired from the same P3AT? Very strange choice for an inner city bang-bang. It's a lady's gun, hardly better than a .25, not a man stopper."

"No bet, Jane. I'm sure your right, but...," she added, "It did stop 2 men."

"Yes it did, Maur. I'm gonna run this up to Frost. Korsak has the mother in an interview room. Text me when you're ready for the viewing."

An hour later, Maura had rolled the gurney in front up the plate glass windows of her lab. When Jane's text came through she lifted the blind, allowing Deniece Smoot to glimpse the second child she had lost in 6 days. This was the worst part of the job for Maura. She had never been squeamish when it came to blood and guts, but human suffering brought her to her knees, effectively cutting short her planned career as a surgeon and pushing her into forensic pathology.

Ms. Smoot didn't even look at the body, but immediately began shrieking, "This is my fault, my fault, my fault. God is punishing me for what I did."

Jane wrapped an arm around the small, hysterical woman and signaled Maura with a look that she should close the blind.


	6. Chapter 6

The Dirty Robber was nearly empty at midnight on a Sunday; a lone redhead sat nursing a beer at the end of the bar and three college-aged, flannel-clad guys shared a game of pool in the corner. Jane and Maura slid into their usual booth as the jukebox selection changed from Pearl Jam's "Daughter" to "Cheeseburger in Paradise."

"Yes!" Jane pumped her fist. "I am meant to have a cheeseburger. The gods and Jimmy Buffet have decreed."

"It's a bit late for such a heavy meal, Jane."

"The one good thing about this." Jane gestured vaguely at her slim form. "Is I can eat anything, anytime and never gain a pound."

Maura couldn't help herself, "I'd hardly say that was the only good thing. Your physique is extremely pleasing. You're quite lovely, Jane." Feeling her face grow warm, she looked down quickly, biting her lip. She could feel Jane rolling her eyes, even if she couldn't see it.

"You're the only one who thinks so. Uh, whatever, Maur. You getting a burger?"

"No, but I'll share your fries if you get sweet potato."

"Deal." Jane stretched, rubbed the back of her neck and met Maura's eyes. "Did you find anything, anything at all on that body? I'm grasping at straws here. I need a break in this case, in any of my cases. I now have three open homicides on my desk."

"Both brothers had Morton's toe. The Beacon Hill victim had it as well." Maura said. "But, that's not statistically significant. I have it myself, as does about 15% of the population."

"Eww, Is it catching? Can I get it from using your shower?"

Maura giggled. "No. It is definitely not something you contract like polio or the measles. It's a genetic variation whereby the first metatarsal in the hallux is shortened in relation to the first metatarsal in the second phalange of the foot."

"In English, Maura." Jane drummed her fingers on the table.

"Oh, sorry. The second toe is longer than the big toe."

Jane rubbed her temples in mock annoyance. "So someone is going around killing people with ugly feet?"

"Quite the contrary, Jane. Morton's toe is sometimes called 'Greek Foot' because classical sculptors depicted it in their statuary; even the Statue of Liberty is a Morty. It's considered to be more aesthetically pleasing."

Jane's phone buzzed. She pulled it from her belt and glanced. "Korsak confirms that the same gun killed both brothers. So the killer had to get pretty close to do that kind of damage with such a small handgun. Could be someone they knew."

"Or someone not intimidating." Maura added.

"Or someone with a repulsive foot fetish." Jane grinned, taking a monstrous bite of her burger.

"And since I can't get that disease from your shower, I'm definitely staying over and eating ma's veal cutlets for breakfast tomorrow."

"Sleep with me?" Maura asked in a small voice.

"Of course." Jane answered between bites. "Jo Friday goes directly to your bed now. She's gotten used to the finer things. Pretty soon she'll be demanding one of those $30,000 Swedish mattresses for her dog house."

Maura was content. A platonic Jane Rizzoli in her bed was better than no Jane at all.

* * *

Jane sank into the softness of Maura's feathery bed with a sigh. Opening one eye, she saw her friend had inched very close to her and was now sharing her pillow.

"Jane, do you want to talk?" She asked quietly.

"No, Maur. I want to sleep. It's been a whale of a day."

"In my medical opinion, you need to stay awake at least another 20 minutes to avoid a dyspepsic episode. You have half a pound of fatty beef sitting in your stomach."

Jane groaned, but sat up a little, kicking aside a sleeping Jo Friday. "All right. What do you want to talk about?"

Maura hesitated and then closed the final distance between them, resting her head on Jane's shoulder. She knew the prickly detective may react by either shrugging her off or grudgingly allowing the physical intimacy. She was betting that a tired Jane would be less likely to resist. She was right; Jane merely adjusted her position slightly for comfort and closed her eyes.

"I was wondering, Jane, if you decided on a course of action with Casey?"

Jane made a noncommittal noise.

"I'm sorry, Jane, but I'm a forensic pathologist, not a zoologist, you will have to speak to me verbally not in animal grunts."

"Was that sarcasm, Maura?"

"Only if I did it right."

"Very good, Doc." Jane chuckled, wrapping Maura's shoulders in one long arm. She began to absent-mindedly run her fingers through her friend's long locks.

"He was my only friend in high school. I know him forever and it's easy."

"Caring for a partner with gross physical injuries to say nothing of his psychological wounds cannot be easy, Jane."

Jane sighed. "If his surgery is a success, I will tell him that I don't love him and that he needs to move on. He deserves to be happy. He's a war hero."

"And you're not?" Maura lifted her head an inch to look into Jane's eyes. "You do battle every day, Jane, and you have the scars to prove it."

"Shhhushhh, Maura." Jane pushed her head back down and continued the distracted combing of her friend's hair.

_Caramel, gold, chestnut, honey, flax, copper, gold again _

The action was soothing to them both.

"So you don't love him?" Maura whispered into Jane's neck.

"No, Maur. I don't love him. It's complicated and my feelings are so tied up with childhood. He defended me so many times, ate lunch with me when no one else would, took me to the prom and took my virginity that night..." Jane's voice trailed off.

"Weren't you popular, Jane? You're so outgoing, strong and beautiful. I can't imagine you friendless and in need of defense."

"I was the big, sweaty girl, Maur. No one likes the big, sweaty girl. They called me Sasquatch, Bigfoot, Cavewoman, the Abominable Snowlesbian, Lezzoli." Jane's voice grew a little higher and tighter with each insult and without looking, Maura knew she was crying.

Maura wanted to make everything better, to take away all of Jane's pain. If they were lovers, she would have kissed away the tears, whispered the kindest, deepest words of love and longing and shown the other woman with her hands, her mouth, her entire being how much she was loved and desired. As best friends there was a line that could not be crossed and though they both walked its very edge, she knew crossing it may very well cause Jane to bolt and she would lose everything. They lay for a long time in silence.

"I was friendless too, Jane, before I met you. I was such a mess in high school and college, you have no idea."

"I'm sure you were a total nerd, Maur, but you must have been the hottie of the geek set. Didn't you play Dungeons and Dragons with boys named Chang and Eng?" Jane had got herself under control and her voice was its customary raspy alto, her sense of humor back .

"Jane, those were the original Siamese Twins!"

"I know, Maur. You made me watch a documentary about them. See, I pay attention."

Maura reluctantly slipped out of Jane's arms and made her way to her spacious closet. She returned a moment later holding a photograph against her chest.

"I've never shown this to anyone in my adult life." She looked sadly at the picture for a few seconds before passing it to Jane with a trembling hand.

Jane studied it carefully. "That's not you, is it?"

"Yes, sophomore year at BCU."

Jane stared at the young woman standing beneath a linden tree. Her hair was an unsightly snare of mouse brown frizz, ineffectually held back by a row of bobby pins at each temple. Her teeth protruded above her lower lip. She was not exactly heavy, but solid, unfeminine, an impression perhaps exaggerated by the ungainly cut of her tweed suit, the skirt of which fell to mid-calf, showing several inches of beige pantihose above brown saddle shoes. Only the eyes were the same, though greatly magnified behind heavy dark frames.

"We used to call those Buddy Holly glasses." Jane said with a nervous laugh, not moving her eyes from the photograph.

"I've always thought of them as Shostakovich glasses." Maura replied.

Jane shook her head, took one last look at the sad young woman and passed the photo back to Maura.

"How did you manage such a transformation?"

"I worked very hard on myself, Jane. I wanted so much to fit in, to be accepted. My mother helped me immensely. She took me to Europe, taught me about the aesthetics of clothing. I had surgery to correct my vision, dental work. I discovered yoga..." Maura sighed. "But Jane, that's who I am, inside. That's how I feel. That photo is the real Maura Dorthea Isles."

"Come here." Jane croaked, patting the bed beside her.

When Maura obliged, Jane took her face between her scarred palms and looked deep into her eyes, lost for a moment in the interplay of golds and greens, greys and russets. Maura's breath caught; for a moment she was certain that Jane was going to kiss her.

When Jane finally spoke, her voice was a deep husk. "You, my friend, are beautiful, inside and out." She stared a bit longer to emphasize her point and then lay down, pulling Maura with her. She reached out and flipped off the light switch.

"Let's get some sleep, Maur. I want to revisit the Rigsdale crime scene tomorrow in Beacon Hill. It's going to be a long, long week."

After a moment she added, "You should sleep like a baby now that you've unburdened yourself of your deepest, darkest secret."

"But I didn't, Jane." Maura's voice was small and muffled against Jane's chest.

"Jane?"

"Yes?"

"Jane, I'm gay."

Jane went absolutely rigid. Maura could hear as well as feel that she was not breathing at all.

"Jane?"

When Jane finally released her breath, it came out in a warm rush that ruffled Maura's hair.

"It's okay, Maura. It's okay. Go to sleep."


	7. Chapter 7

Maura woke up with her alarm to an empty bed. She wasn't surprised; Jane was always quick to run away from any sort of emotional confrontation. What had astonished her was that Jane did not immediately bolt last night, but had apparently waited until Maura fell asleep to make her escape. She wished she could stuff the words back into her mouth then Jane would still be laying here groaning about hitting the snooze alarm and "five more minutes." Now she faced the very real possibility that last night was the last night she would sleep wrapped in Jane's arms. She knew coming out could be a painful process, but she was unprepared for the tightness in her chest, twisting in her belly and stinging behind her eyes.

_Emotional pain manifesting itself physically. _

She ran the shower as hot as she could stand it and had a good cry under the spray.

Jane paced in front of the counter in Maura's immaculate kitchen, covering the length of the room in 9 long strides. She'd lain in bed stiff and fixed in place until the M.E.'s breathing had grown soft and regular before gently extricating herself from the tangle of her friend's limbs and rushing downstairs. She'd already had four cups of Maura's excessively strong European coffee and her brain was buzzing. She wanted to run, not only metaphorically, but physically, to push her body until her muscles ached and the pain and sweat and burning in her chest drove every thought from her mind. She was extremely proud of herself for staying. Damn, she was a grown-ass woman, 40 years old, who had faced serial killers, rapists, drug dealers. She'd been shot, stabbed and beaten, but Maura's admission had sent a bolt of fear through her entire being that both bit like a hot flame in its initial hearing and burned cold deep in her bones as the words continued to resonate in her mind.

_I spent the night holding a lesbian. Gah, stop it Jane. You spent the night holding Maura, like countless other nights. Holding her, stroking her hair, kissing her head... _

Jane growled, shaking her lion's mane of dark locks and resumed her pacing.

_Damn it, Maura. You've ruined everything. _

Mercifully, her thoughts were interrupted by the blaring guitar noise of _Total Control_.

_Shit. Another body. _

Jane bounded up the stairs, and charged into Maura's room, which was empty. "Mauuuuuuur!" She bellowed.

"Jane?" The weak reply came from deep within the wardrobe.

"Who else were you expecting? Melissa Etheridge?"

"Who?"

"Uh, never mind." Jane had never been more grateful for her friend's pop culture ignorance.

_How the hell did that slip out? Think, Jane, before you speak. _

Jane turned into the closet to find Dr. Isles, wearing nothing but a lacy apricot bra and panty set, sniffling and gazing sorrowfully at a rack of dresses. She quickly turned away, blushing, the sight of the curvy doctor filling her with shame.

"Maura! Get dressed."

"I can't, Jane. I...I have nothing to wear."

"What? Have you gone blind, woman? You must have a zillion outfits and twice as many shoes."

"No." Maura sobbed. "My Monday choice doesn't feel right anymore and I can't, I can't, I can't."

Jane had seen this happen before. When under extreme stress, her friend sometimes became stuck, like an old record with a worn grove, repeating the same clip of music again and again until something came along to jar it past the damaged patch.

Jane stomped into the closet, carefully avoiding even a casual glimpse of all the soft, porcelain flesh on display. She thrust her hand into the closest section of clothing and pulled out one hanger.

"Here. Wear this." She thrust it at the smaller woman, keeping her eyes above her head.

"But Jane, that's my Thursday choice." Maura whimpered.

"Maura." Jane growled between clenched teeth. "I said wear it. I will be downstairs where I expect you in five minutes. Deniece Smoot is dead.

* * *

The ride back to Holworthy Street was silent and tense. Both women stared straight ahead, the doctor occasionally glancing at the detective out of the corner of her eye. Jane was perfectly rigid, her hands clasping the wheel so tightly that her normally white scars had turned pink against her olive skin.

"Jane, are you angry with me?" Maura finally asked.

"I'm not angry." Jane replied.

"Yes. You definitely are. Your depressor glabellae, pars palpebralis and obicularis oris give it away."

"I'm tired, Maura. I didn't sleep at all last night and as of this morning, I have four people dead on my watch."

"Do you want to talk about, um, my..."

"Nope." Jane cut her off. "Don't want to talk about that at all, Maura. Work. Dead people. Let's focus on that, okay?"

"Jane, I need to know one thing or else I won't be able to do my job today."

Jane pulled up in front of the Smoot apartment house, disgusted that Frost and Korsak had once again beat her to the scene, making her look like a slouch. She turned slowly to face the M.E., her head dropping in expectation of the blow.

"What, Maura? What do you need to know?"

"Are you still my friend?" It came out in a rush of breath.

_Not the question she was expecting. _

Jane raised her head and met Maura's red-rimmed eyes for the first time that day.

"You could tell me that you killed someone and I would help you hide the body. Yes. I am still your friend, your best friend."

Jane turned off the engine of the Crown Vic and bounded up the concrete steps of the building_, _leaving the doctor alone to collect herself.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I want to thank everyone for their interest in my work. This is my first attempt at fan fiction. I've enjoyed reading the work of others for some time now and decided to try to write the kind of story I would enjoy reading. I have loved every moment writing this and I hope it entertains you as well.**

**Some people have expressed anger at Jane and her decidedly cavalier attitude toward Maura. Give her some time. Jane is all defenses and they don't come down easily or quickly. Our girls will be together at the end, I promise, but it will be a slow and sometimes painful journey. It wouldn't make for a very interesting plot if Jane had answered, "Me too!" and kissed Maura right away, would it?**

**Thank you all again and happy reading.**

* * *

The Smoot kitchen was a wreck; broken hunks of plaster ceiling littered the floor, a white dust covering all surfaces. A large ceiling fan lay atop the plain pine tabletop, the cause of the mess. Jane bent down and covered her boots with blue paper evidence booties. She followed the sound of male voices through the kitchen and into the small, neat living room. Frost and Korsak were standing on either side of what was once a beige corduroy loveseat, now soaked a deep, pulpy burgundy. In the very center of the couch sat Deniece Smoot, her forearms slashed from wrist to elbow, a photo album featuring two handsome biracial boys lay open and covered with gore on her lap next to a plastic handled paring knife.

"Who found her?" Jane asked, pulling on a pair of purple latex gloves.

"Super. Downstairs neighbors called about blood dripping from their ceiling tiles."

"Was the door locked when he arrived?"

"Yes and chained from the inside. He had to clip the chain." Jane crossed the room and looked out the window onto a fire escape.

"Windows are locked from the inside." Korsak stated.

"Where's the doc?" Frost asked, a handkerchief covering his nose and mouth as he pointedly looked away from the body.

"I'm here, Barrold. Why are you covering your nose? She hasn't been dead long enough to produce an offensive odor." Maura walked through the archway and into the small room.

"It's the blood, Doc. I can't stomach that smell."

"Nah, Doc." Korsak joked. "He's trying to keep the vomit in, not the smell out."

Maura leaned over the dead woman, pulling down her eyelids and turning up the inside of her lips.

"She's exsanguinated."

"So definitely a murder, then." Jane said, winking at the other detectives behind Maura's back.

"No, no. I can't say for sure, but this seems like a classic suicide to me."

"Yes!" Jane pumped her fist. "Definitely a suicide."

"That's right." Korsak joined in. "Dr. Isles wouldn't venture an opinion if she wasn't already convinced."

"Good enough for me." Frost added, walking back through the kitchen. "I figure she tried to hang herself first using the kitchen fan as a hoist. When it wouldn't hold her weight, she switched to plan B."

"Hey, Maur, she have ligature marks on her neck?"

"Not per se, but there is some subtle bruising and an abrasion under the right ear."

"Where's the rope?" Korsak asked, glancing under the table.

Jane lifted the fan from the table and pulled a heavy duty orange extension cord from under it. "Let's pack this. If the plug matches the abrasion on her neck, it should prove your theory,Frost."

Korsak looked thoughtfully around the room. "Until the doc says this is officially a suicide, we are still at the scene of a potential murder. Let's take this place apart. I have a strange feeling about Deniece Smoot. She was a bit off when I interviewed her after Prescott's murder."

"Grief will do that." Frost stated, staring sadly at a photo of a tiny Deniece Smoot flanked by her hulking sons.

"Yes and I saw that after Prior's murder, but there was something else there after Prescott died."

"Something else? Despair? Horror?" Jane asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Guilt." Korsak answered.

Maura was still working when the three detectives reentered the living room an hour later. Frost carried a box of papers under his arm and a bag of prescription drugs in his hand. Korsak and Jane had a laptop each, a bag containing the kitchen phone and the orange commercial extension cord.

"You almost done, doc?"

"Mmm." Maura answered, a roll of medical tape in her mouth as she wound the adhesive around baggies draped over both forearms.

"Hey, Maur, humor me. Does she have those classically beautiful Greek toes like you do?" Jane asked.

The doctor bent down, carefully untied Deniece's left Reebok sneaker and removed it along with a fuzzy purple sock.

"No, standard Egyptian foot. The father must have been a Morty."

Maura drew her eyebrows together and stared hard at the foot before gently pulling the sock back on followed by the shoe, tying the laces together in a small neat bow.

"Let's hit the Rigsdale place once more before we head back to the station." Jane pulled off her gloves and booties in the Smoot entryway.

"Yeah." Korsak seconded. "Police tape is coming down tomorrow and the family will probably be back in by Wednesday. This may be our last look. You coming Dr. Isles?'

Maura met them in the hall, looking pale and worried.

"I don't think so, Vince. I am going to get a start on the third Smoot autopsy and there are a few other things I need to check on in my lab."

"I'll meet you in front of the place." Jane glanced at the other detectives. "I'm just going to drop Maura back first."

"Don't trouble yourself, Jane. I'll ride with the body." Maura said.

"What's up with the doc?" Frost asked after Maura had left.

"She's having an identity crisis." Jane answered, almost truthfully. "She can't cope because she is wearing Thursday's dress on a Monday."

The two men caught each other's eyes and shrugged in the universal gesture of male cluelessness and quickly followed Jane down the apartment stairs.

* * *

When Jane returned to the station well after 6:00, she headed immediately to the bank of stainless steel elevators in the lobby, jabbing quickly at the down arrow. She had a splitting headache and her stomach was twisting and turning upon itself, begging its owner for a meal. She hadn't eaten a thing since the burger the night before and she had a sour, acidy burn at the back of her throat from all the coffee she had consumed during the course of the day. She'd had enough of this Monday, but wanted an expert opinion on something before she called it a day. She entered the morgue at a near gallop, sliding the last foot with a squeak from her rubber soled boot.

"Maura..."

The doctor was sitting on a high stool at the counter, a rubber tube tied around her biceps as she prodded the inside of her elbow with a nasty looking needle.

"What are you doing?" Jane asked, walking quickly into the empty lab.

Maura was clearly embarrassed; she stared wide-eyed at Jane for a full 10 seconds before sighing and answering. "I am taking a blood sample from myself."

"Why?'

The M.E. looked down at her arm. The needle had struck its mark and dark red blood was flowing from up a narrow tube and collecting in a pink topped vial.

"I want to compare my DNA to Prior and Prescott."

"Why?" Jane asked again, bewildered.

"They were biracial. Their father was clearly Caucasian and light eyed. They both have Morton's toe...as do I...and Paddy Doyle."

"That's a long-shot, Maur."

"Maybe, but it wouldn't be the first time a half-sibling of mine wound up on my autopsy table."

Maura had stunned Jane for the second time in less than 24 hours and she turned and walked out of the lab, her original mission forgotten.


	9. Chapter 9

Jane stomped into her apartment, slaming the door behind her. The violence of her motion causing a framed Tom Brady autograph to fall from the wall. She savagely kicked it across the room.

"Jo! Jo Freaking Friday! C'mon! Time for your walk." She growled, not even feeling bad for taking out her frustration on the small innocent yorkie.

"Jo! Now! Stupid piece of shit dog."

Jane wilted. "Oh fuck...fuck me...fuck...fuck it...motherless cocksucker." Jo was not going to answer no matter how loudly Jane bellowed because she was still at Maura's.

"Shit, shit, shit." Jane slammed her keys and phone on the table and stood for a solid minute in her hallway, eyes closed, fists clenched at her sides.

_Screw it. Let Maura walk the dog. Cute little yorkie should be a real chick magnet at the park. _Jane thought nastily.

She flipped on the television then switched it off. She had to think. No distractions. She made a deal with herself: 15 minutes of thinking with a reward of a beer and half an hour of television. Then another 15 minutes and a Facebook game or more TV. This was the way that Jane had been dealing with her emotions since puberty; she could only stand to look inward in very small doses, sandwiched between mindless activity. It's what made her so good at her job; that ability to be selfless, dogged in pursuit of a lead, single minded, able to shoot herself through the abdomen to protect others. She was almost always Detective Rizzoli, seldom just Jane. Only for Maura did she let down a few of those deeply ingrained defenses.

_Maura. _

"Shit." Jane looked at her watch. Scarcely four minutes had passed.

Maura was the most feminine woman she knew; never left home without a full face of make up, _though she doesn't really need it_, Jane mused. She always dresses like Vogue was about to call her to fill in for, for, _Gah_. Jane didn't know the name of any models. Maura had perfect manners, always sat like a lady; loved to shop for shoes...

_Damn. If Maura is gay, what does that say about me? _

She looked at her watch again. Thirteen Minutes. Close enough. Jane groped desperately for the remote and her beer, quickly flipping on the set to a commercial for toilet tissue. She watched it with sharply focused interest as if she would be quizzed on the properties that set Cottonelle apart from the rest of the ass-wiping contenders. When the commercial resolved, her eyes continued to burn holes into the flatscreen, a Christmas gift from _Maura_. Jane shook her head, trying to empty her mind of thoughts like she would water from her ear.

"And welcome back to the Ellen DeGeneres Show." The smiling blond appeared on screen to the delight of her studio audience.

"Gah! Lesbians!" Jane jabbed at the channel up button on her remote, stopping at her trusty ESPN. She'd lose herself in whatever game was playing. The Sox had the night off, but whatever. She'd even watch the crappy NY Mets play the even crappier Chicago Cubs if that's what it took, but ESPN was showing highlights of a women's tennis match and the commentator was Martina Navratilova!

Jane flicked off the television with disgust. Now the universe was fucking with her. She chugged the rest of her Blue Moon and went to the kitchen for another. When she returned to the sofa, she had a text message. From Maura.

**Where are you? Tonight is pizza night. Not sure how much longer I can hold off Jo Friday from your pepperoni :). **

_Only Maura would add a punctuation mark after an emoticon How dare she act like nothing has changed. _

Jane's fingers stabbed at her iphone like she hated it.

**Sick. Migraine. Keep Jo for me. **

The reply came almost immediately.

**On my way. I can stimulate some acupressure points in your head and neck to ease the pain. Hang in there, Jane. **

"Fuck." Jane texted back frantically.

**NO! Just want to lay ALONE in the dark. PLEASE. **

Maura's text came through a moment later.

**Ok, Jane. Feel better. Don't worry about Jo. **

Of course she wouldn't worry about Jo. She was probably eating steak tartare out of a crystal bowl and drinking Evian water before retiring to Maura's luxurious Duxiana bed. Maura, however, would be sitting alone, looking very small on her sofa with a gigantic greasy pizza that she didn't even want in front of her. She would be biting her lower lip and worrying about Jane.

Quickly deciding to waste some time in the most mindless fashion, Jane reached for her ipad and queued up Candy Crush. Within 10 minutes she was out of lives. She signed onto Facebook, resolving to get another life from Korsak who always seemed to be online Photoshopping vampire teeth onto puppy pictures and posting gifs of kitties falling into sinks and looking cute and angry.

She scrolled through her timeline, barely glancing at the lame posts of her so-called friends: Joey Jr.'s first Communion pics, Carmela DeSantis got a promotion, Giovanni checked into the Windjammer Motel with his date.

"Who gives a shit." Jane muttered to herself.

She never updated her own status, just used it to lurk a bit when she was bored. Maura, on the other hand, updated her status every day with a helpful factoid for her ten friends (the Rizzolis, Frost , Korsak, Susie Chang, Dr. Pike, Giovanni and some guy in Romania who randomly friended her). Yesterday's status was, "There are 206 bones in the adult human body. Make sure you nourish them all with a daily calcium tablet and vitamin D3."

Susie had commented, "Thanks, Dr. Isles. I always take my vitamins!"

"Ass kisser." Jane sneered.

Korsak had liked the post, but Korsak liked everything. Jane imagined that she could type, "I'm ravaged by diarrhea, shitting so hard my ovaries just fell out of my ass." and Korsak would like it.

She scrolled some more; Angela had shared a recipe for pulled pork, a few assholes were playing Bubble Witch, whatever the fuck that was, and then another post from Maura.

"Friends, after much soul-searching and in solidarity with the recent ruling by The Supreme Court of the United States striking down the discriminatory Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), I would like to formally announce my coming out as a proud gay woman."

"What the fuck!" Jane dropped the ipad and picked up her iphone. She was about to dial Maura and... do what? Tell her she had no right to live her life the way she saw fit? Instead she grabbed another beer from the fridge and sucked it down right there leaning on her counter.

When she logged on again Korsak had liked the status and Susie Chang had both liked and commented, "I fully support you, Dr. Isles. You are a mentor and a friend."

While she was reading, Giovanni had commented twice, "Duh" and "Hot."

Jane clicked on Maura's profile picture, the same bland photo on her ID badge and then onto her wall pics. There were only three: she and Maura linked arm in arm at her PBA dinner, Jane in full dress uniform towering over the M.E.. They looked like a married couple. Photo two was a snapshot of them at the Dirty Robber, arms around each others shoulders wearing their Homicide Division softball uniforms. Most incriminating of all was photo three, taken at a spa the year before. Jane had pulled herself out of her own mud bath and got into Maura's as a goof. One of the spa attendants had snapped a photo at Jane's request and here they were, naked, covered in mud and pressed together in a tub big enough for only one.

Jane groaned. When Maura outed herself, she essentially outed Jane as well. Jane, who in the fuzzy depths of her beer-clouded brain still clung to the hope that she might be straight.

* * *

Jane awoke on her living room floor, her head throbbing like a strobe light. She cracked one eye and closed it again, took a deep breath and opened both. The fringe of her area rug was stained a deep ruby, still sticky to the touch. She followed the trail of gore across the floorboards to where it doubled back on itself and climbed the front of her t-shirt. Her hand flew to her chest, gently prodding up her neck until she stopped at her chin with an "Ouch."

She stood and wobbled woozily to her bathroom and steeled herself for a look in the mirror.

"Oh, you gotta be shitting me."

Her hair was sticky and matted with blood, the lower half of her face looked as if she had spent the evening gorging herself on raw meat. Upon examination, the culprit seemed to be a large, brown shard of glass that still protruded from her chin. She padded back into the living room, steadier now, and found the remnants of a Blue Moon bottle lying at the edge of the rug.

"Well Detective, put together the clues." Jane mused to herself.

"The subject over drank, fell on the floor and impaled her fucking face on her broken beer bottle."

Guilty as charged.

She automatically reached for her phone and hit the speed dial for Maura.

Fifteen minutes later Jane was roused from her half-sleep by the sound of the key jiggling in her front door and then the door itself opening.

"Jane!"

Maura rushed into the room in her satiny nightshirt and bedroom slippers, Jo following close at her heels.

"What happened?"

"I had a little accident. I fell and this happened." Jane gestured to her face, too tired to explain any further.

"Did you pass out from the migraine pain?"

Maura looked at her with concern as she wiped blood from Jane's face and neck with a warm washcloth.

"Uh, maybe." Jane hedged. "Truth is, I think I drank too much on an empty stomach."

Maura frowned, but continued with her ministrations.

"Did you hit your head when you fell?"

"I don't think so. I think I just landed on my chin."

"That's unlikely, Jane. If your chin had taken the entire impact, you would have broken your jaw."

Maura ran her hands through Jane's messy curls, feeling all along her scalp. Jane winced when she touched a spot just above her left ear.

"Ha. I knew it." Maura smirked.

"So you're happy that I am more injured than I thought?" Jane teased her.

"No, I'm happy that I was right."

Maura hummed a dissonant tune as she pulled random supplies from her medical bag.

"I'm going to give you a shot of lidocaine and then I'll remove that shard and stitch you up. Unless," she hesitated, "you'd rather go to the Emergency Room."

"No." Jane groused. "Just do it."

She closed her eyes and reclined against the back of the sofa.

"Are you comfortable, Jane?"

"Yeah. You want me to move?"

"No. I'll work around you."

Maura reached over her and Jane winced, but remained still, as a needle hit the sore flesh under her jaw. A moment later her eyes shot open as the M.E. straddled her lap and leaned in close to begin her work. Jane felt her pores open, sweat beads gathering under her breasts, arms and at her temple, running down her face onto her neck. She hoped the doctor wouldn't notice.

"Jane." Maura pulled back and looked into her friend's eyes. "Your heart is beating so quickly. Am I hurting you? Pain can cause an increase in pulse, respiration and…."

"No, Maur. Just finish it. I've dealt with worse."

"I could give you another shot or..."

"Mauuuura. Just finish." Jane growled.

The doctor shrugged and leaned back into Jane. This time one breast, loose under the silky night shirt, pressed against Jane's sternum. She was hyperaware of it, the weight of that soft mound shifting slightly as Maura moved her arm to stitch. In an effort to not think about the doctor's breasts, she began to obsess over the knees that were firmly clasped on either side of her hips and the pale, toned thighs above them. She felt woozy and the painful throb in her head had moved someplace decidedly lower, only here it was not painful at all.

"Jane, are you going to pass out?"

The doctor's face was a mere two inches from hers and she could feel Maura's warm breath tickle her nose as she spoke.

"Maura, your breath smells like flowers." Jane whispered.

Maura giggled, finished her last stitch and shifted off of Jane's lap and onto the sofa beside her.

"Syzygium aromaticum, cloves. I'm afraid I overindulged in pizza this evening so I chewed some cloves. They act as a carminative, stimulating the production of hydrochloric acid in the stomach to aid peristalsis. They also have antiseptic properties; they kill bacteria in the mouth and can freshen breath for hours."

Jane was much more comfortable without the woman in her lap and was glad her friend was distracted by science or nature or botany or whatever and she had a few minutes to get herself under control.

"I guess my breath is not as fresh." Jane joked, once her breathing had returned to normal.

"I can handle it." Maura smiled, revealing a deep dimple. "I do work in a morgue."

Feeling more herself, Jane pantomimed uproarious laughter, stopping suddenly with a scowl.

"Am I cleared for work, Doc?"

"Conditionally." Maura replied. "I will be your constant companion for the next 48 hours to monitor you for concussion."

Jane groaned. "Fine."

"Fine." Maura echoed. "Now let's get you into the shower. Your hair is awful, Jane, and you don't smell very good."

"I can shower myself, Maur."

"Constant companion." Maura chided as she followed the tall detective into the bathroom.


	10. Chapter 10

Jane dreaded walking into the station the next morning; the entire lower half of her face was bruised a garish dark violet which she could not cover with makeup since the three-inch gash in her chin was still raw. Her one consolation was that the horrific sight of her face would most likely overshadow the bombshell that Maura had dropped the night before on Facebook.

The patrolman on security duty in the lobby stared openly until Jane challenged him with a gruff, "You got a problem, buddy?" He immediately dropped his eyes and pretended to be very interested in the entry log on his desk.

In front of the elevators she turned to Maura, who had been walking beside her, a hand hovering near Jane's elbow, since they exited the doctor's Prius in the parking lot.

"Thanks for everything, Maur. I'll be sure to text you immediately if I feel dizzy or nauseous or anything out of the ordinary."

She pressed the up arrow for herself and down for the ME.

"No need, Jane. I will be beside you all day. Constant companion, remember?" Maura beamed up at the object of her affection.

"I don't think that's necessary. I'm fine, really."

Jane frowned and jabbed the up button a second time. She didn't think she could take 48 hours of Maura's hovering care. The doctor had insisted upon sitting on the toilet while Jane showered and outside the unlocked bathroom door, shouting "Marco" every 15 seconds while Jane took care of more personal business. If she didn't respond with "Polo" in a timely manner, she knew Maura would barge in and start CPR.

"That was our deal, Jane, to avoid a trip to the ER where they would definitely have kept you overnight and barred your return to work for the rest of the week."

Maura smiled sweetly and took Jane's arm, pulling the lanky detective into the up elevator.

"Don't you have any dead people to cut up, Maur?" Jane stammered.

"Two unattended as of this morning. Dr. Pike can handle those, nothing suspicious."

The elevator doors opened on the homicide bullpen, and Jane ducked her head and strode quickly to her desk. She had considered ditching Maura by sending her to the café to pick up breakfast, but thought better of it as it was probably not a good idea to put the overly truthful doctor together with the overly nosy Angela Rizzoli so soon after her coming out. There was no guessing what Angela might ask and what Maura might tell. The myriad complications to her own life from Maura's disclosure made Jane's head spin.

"Holy shit, Jane!" Korak nearly dropped his Moonpie at the sight. "Did you get into a fight?"

"Yowch." Frost scrunched up his nose. "What did you do to yourself?"

"I had a little fall, no biggie. Right, Maura?"

"It looks worse than it is due to the heavy ecchymoses around the laceration. I am more concerned about a possible concussion. We need to watch her carefully over the next two days."

"Yeah." Jane rolled her eyes. "Maura has designated herself my constant companion."

"Constant companion?" Korsak rolled the term around on his tongue. "I like that much better than life partner. It's sweet. Congratulations, ladies. I wish you both much happiness."

Frost doubled over in laughter, tears running down his handsome face as Jane's countenance managed to display the conflicting emotions of shock, anger and frustration all at once.

"Maura and I are not a couple." Jane managed to spit out.

"Korsak, yo Korsak." Frost gasped between guffaws. "You really put your big, flat foot in your mouth this time."

Jane continued to seethe as Korsak struggled for understanding.

"Okay, Doctor Isles has come out, but Jane is still in the closet?" He looked genuinely confused.

"Oh, oh, I'm going to wet myself." Frost crossed his legs under his desk. "I'm sorry, doc. I mean no disrespect. You know my mom and her partner Robin and that I am completely supportive."

"Of course, Barrold." Maura patted him on the shoulder. "I am gay, Vince, and single. Jane has made no such declaration and ergo, she remains in the default category: heterosexual."

Korsak nodded his head in understanding. "Sorry, Janie."

"S'all right." Jane muttered, staring down at her desk, two long fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

Maura noticed immediately and placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Jane are you in pain or just embarrassed?" She whispered into the detective's ear.

"Neither." But she was embarrassed, very embarrassed. She caught herself staring at the ME's generous chest as she spoke. "Let's just get to work. I want to hit the Rigsdale scene one more time with Maura."

She lifted her head and turned to the doctor. "That's what I came down to the morgue to ask you yesterday and then it just left my head."

"You sure you're up for it, Janie?" Korsak asked. "Frost and I could take a run down there with the doc if you want her to look at it again."

"I've never seen it, Vince." Maura replied. "Dr. Pike went to the scene as I was up to my elbows in Prior Smoot when the call came in."

She turned once more to Jane, looking deep and long into her large chocolate eyes. Jane forced herself to look back and keep a blank expression.

"Normal pupil reaction. Concussion watch continues." Maura declared.

Jane sighed.

_Forget the concussion. I think I'm coming down with a bad case of gay. _

* * *

Jane automatically walked to the driver's side of the black Crown Vic parked behind the station. She usually drove. Frost and Korsak had no problem with it, but Maura certainly did. She dashed around the car surprisingly fast for a woman wearing four inch Valentino slingbacks.

"Absolutely no driving, Jane, for at least 48 hours. "

"I'm fine to drive, Maur. Stop being such a..an Angela Rizzoli."

The doctor was not going to be steam rolled today, she was operating on near zero sleep as she had spent the night watching over Jane for signs of head trauma, sleeping only fitfully in 45 minute increments between examinations of the detective's pupils and reflexes. She placed her own hand over Jane's on the door handle and gently, but firmly extracted it.

"Jane, do you really want to risk injuring your partners and me? Is it worth it?"

"Fine, but I got shotgun."

Jane stomped around the car to the passenger side and had opened the door when a rough male voice called from the next parking bay.

"Rizzoli is whipped. You always do exactly what your girlfriend says, Rizzoli?"

She looked over to where Detectives Crowe and Martinez were leaning against their own patrol car, both leering in an especially predatory manner.

"Eat me, Crowe." She said, giving both of them the finger.

"Oh I would, but every time I try I keep hitting my face against the back of the doctor's head."

Jane slammed the door and rushed toward the two men, intent on doing serious damage. Anger had blinded her to the point that she could no longer discern the features of her tormenters, seeing only two lighter ovals against the dark sedan. Had Frost and Korsak not reacted as quickly to block her path and pin her arms, there would have been three detectives out I.O.D. that day.

Jane sat in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead while her partners spoke loudly and animatedly with the other men. She heard snippets of their conversation, though she wasn't really listening.

"Chief Medical Examiner of the entire Commonwealth..."

"She could have your shield."

"We're all on the same team here."

"A formal apology."

After what felt like an hour, the two men got into their car and drove out of the lot. Frost and Korsak turned and were heading back to the car. Maura's small voice came from the back seat, Jane had forgotten that she was there.

"I'm so sorry, Jane."

Jane spun in her seat and caught her friend's sad hazel eyes with her own fierce dark gaze. She reached back and grasped both soft white hands in one of her own.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Maura. Nothing."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has become invested in this story; your comments, questions, PMs are all appreciated. You may seem some of your suggestions incorporated into later chapters, so in many ways this _our_ story.

I will be out of town for the rest of the week and probably won't be able to post again until next Monday. I'm sorry for that; I hate when an author keeps you hanging. But it's my anniversary and love must come before duty. :)

Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoy this one.

Thanks to the anonymous reviewer who caught a few cut off sentences here.

* * *

The Rigsdale home was in the Historic Section of Beacon Hill; a three-story brick townhouse in the Federal style, black shutters framed black latticed windows, the building's face laced with just enough creeping ivy to justify the choice of a dark green front door.

Korsak ran his hand along the wrought iron fencework. "My first wife and I always dreamed of buying a place up here, pipe dreams. We used to walk around Beacon Hill on my days off and point out to each other our fantasy house, bench, tree. Eh, good times."

Jane scowled, her facial bruising exaggerating the frown lines on the sides of her mouth.

"You couldn't pay me enough to live here. You know the city tells you exactly how to decorate your house? You can't even paint your freakin' bedroom your favorite color."

She began ticking items off on her long fingers.

"You can't have a pool in your yard, can't park your car in front of your house, can't hang a swing on your own tree if you got kids, and worst of all, you can't decorate your own home with lights at Christmas."

"I beg to differ, Jane." Maura stated. "Anyone living in a registered historical home has chosen to do so and is quite happy to abide by the rules of the Historical Preservation Society in order to keep a district like this looking as much as possible the way it did two hundred years ago."

"Did you grow up around here, Doc?" Korsak asked.

"Yes, walking distance in fact, but not in an historical home. My mother did, however, use the proscribed color palette."

"Those colors are so washed out and dull." Jane complained.

"They didn't have all the artificial dyes that are commercially available today. Dyes for clothing, paint and inks were all made by hand from natural sources: woad, madder, agrimony, tansy..."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the color lesson, Benjamin Moore." Jane cut off the doctor midsentence.

"Well, my point was," Maura stood straighter, determined to finish her thought. "That it is a testament to the human spirit that people have always sought to better their surroundings, that even though it was labor intensive and the results were poor copies of the colors found in nature, people strove to create beauty."

"Well said, Dr. Isles." Frost smiled and clapped his hands.

Jane rolled her eyes and muttered. "If I want to paint my bathroom lime green, I should be able to."

Maura looked at her earnestly. "Sherwin Williams Historical Collection features a lovely sage that should work just as well in your bathroom. It's all about compromise, Jane."

Frost grinned at the women. "You know, watching you two bicker is like..."

"Foreplay." Korsak piped in.

Maura's heart leapt and Jane's sank into the very bottom of her being; they both blushed fiercely.

"I was going to say a classic comedy routine." Frost finished his sentence.

"Let's get this over with." Jane took the lead, ducking under the police tape and stomping up the front stairs, hiding her face behind her flowing dark locks.

* * *

Frost entered last carrying a silver hardshell suitcase containing a blood-spatter kit. The front door opened upon a spacious, white living room, starkly neat and uncluttered although every surface was covered with the gray soot of fingerprint powder. The forensic team had spent the better part of three days lifting prints from the large house.

"It's almost a waste of time these days to dust for prints. Everyone who watches television knows to wear gloves if they're going to commit a crime." Korsak waved a dismissive hand around the large living room.

"Yeah, but watching CSI doesn't make someone an expert, just overconfident, and then we got him. Bam!"

Frost put out his fist for a bump and shook his head as the older detective turned away leaving him hanging.

"Hmm, that's The Mayflower."

Maura had stopped in front of the mantel, above which hung a copy of Halsall's _Mayflower in Plymouth Harbor_. She reached up and traced her gloved finger across the small tender rowing away from the large mother ship.

"Yeah, so." Jane huffed. "Doesn't every Beacon Hill house have that painting just to prove how long their families have been here and blah, blah, blah."

"Many do. My mother's family came over on the Mayflower. She was very involved with the GSMD at one point. I think she may still be on the board."

"So you could join that snob society, Maur?" Jane nudged the doctor.

"I don't think anyone would object, but it always seemed contrived since I am adopted." She sighed loudly, turning away from the painting. "Paddy Doyle is hardly Mayflower stock and I am, at least genetically, a Doyle."

"Don't worry, Doc, you're in good company. There were no Korsaks on the Mayflower or Rizzolis either."

"And the only boat the Frosts ever saw was a slave ship." Frost added.

Maura squirmed out from under Korsak's arm after what she deemed an acceptable amount of time to convey camaraderie and returned to the painting.

"There were Rigsdales on the Mayflower, but they have no decendants. John Rigsdale died during the first winter in Plymouth and his wife, Alice, remarried. It must be the wife's family."

"Hell no." Jane shouted from across the room. "What was her name, Korsak?"

"Crystal Rigsdale, nee Schaefer, a pure Dorchester treasure. No Mayflower blood in that one."

"She was a sister." Frost added.

"A member of a religious order?" Maura tilted her head quizzically.

"A black woman." Jane stated flatly.

Korsak shook his head and shuddered, remembering the brassy woman.

"Then why the painting?" Maura mused.

"I guess it came with the house. Who gives a crap, Maur. We're here to look at the crime scene, not discuss colonial art and color schemes. Unless maybe you'd like to tell us the history of the white paint on these illustrious walls."

Jane puffed out her cheeks and flared her nostrils in her best impression of a New England society matron.

"In art, white paints were often made from lead, but wall paint came from calsomine, essentially a mix of lime and water."

Jane rolled her eyes, grabbing the bottle of Luminol from the kit. "Frost, get the drapes."

"Wait." Maura put a hand up. "The murder took place here? In this room? Where's the blood?"

"This is how we found it. The scene was scrubbed before we got here. Immaculate work, not a drop of visible blood."

The youngest detective pulled the heavy curtains closed, sending the room into darkness. Korsak pulled the portable UV lamp from its case and flipped the switch. The room immediately fluoresced; vivid white-blue veins appearing everywhere like jagged lightening bolts in the night dark sky.

Maura walked the room quickly, tracing and memorizing the patterns, slightly ashamed at her initial thought that this was as beautiful as star gazing or watching the Aurora Borealis and wanting so badly to show the beauty of the northern sky to Jane.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts; luminol faded quickly, she had only half a minute to take it all in. She had, of course, seen the photographs, but they could not capture the feel of the scene, the visceral horror of standing in the center of a bloodbath like a small figure in a vast snow globe of fear and death.

In thirty seconds it was gone and the four investigators stood silently in the dark until Frost moved to the front windows and opened the drapes, and they were once again bathed in the clean white light of mid afternoon.

* * *

Maura picked glumly at her Fish and Chips; she was outvoted three to one on choice of lunch venue.

Korsak popped a hush puppy into his mouth and reached for another, "Eat your fish, Doc, it's good for you."

"Not if it's fried, Detective, and served with fried dough and fried potatoes. We live in a harbor town; there are so many choices for fresh seafood, why here?"

"Hush puppies." The other three answered.

"Want some of my clam strips?" Jane dangled what looked like a deep fried rubber band in front of the M.E.'s nose.

"I do." Korsak reached out a meaty paw. "Clams are an aphrodisiac. Right, Doc?"

"Who do you have to aphrodize, old man?" Frost laughed.

"Got to keep up my strength. I may be looking for wife number four."

"There was a recent study that lent some credence to that belief."

Maura pushed aside her barely touched plate and sat up, warming to the subject.

"Consumption of bivalves was found to increase levels of D-aspartic acid and N-methyl-D-aspartic acid in lab rats, both of which play a small role in sexual function."

"Ha!" Korsak bit triumphantly into a clam strip.

"However." Maura lifted a warning finger. "Those studies dealt with raw shellfish, not battered and deep fried. I personally believe that the connection is more psychological than physical; a briny raw mollusk reminds one of the human vulva and naturally leads one toward sexual contemplation."

Maura was surprised to see that her three lunch companions had not only stopped talking, but stopped eating. She smiled sheepishly and nibbled on a clam strip from Jane's plate.

"Maur, did you really have to say 'vulva' at lunch with the guys?' Jane rasped in her ear.

"So... about the case." Frost broke the tension. "What were your impressions of the crime scene, Dr. Isles?"

Maura folded her hands on the plastic tabletop in front of her. "I'm glad I saw the scene. It helps to visualize blood trajectory, but I will have to go over the data in my lab before I venture an opinion."

Jane growled. "Gut feelings, woman! C'mon. What did you feel at the scene?"

Maura closed her eyes and imagined the dark room, a planetarium of shooting blue stars.

I _wanted to lie with you on a blanket and look at the sky. I wanted to kiss your neck and suck on __your pouting lower lip. I wanted to look into your dark eyes by starlight and tell you that there is only you. _

She shook her head and opened her eyes.

"It was a crime of passion; so much blood, scattered so widely in huge sweeping arcs. Overkill, but not premeditated."

"Thank you. Thank you, Maura." Jane sat back, her own theory confirmed.

"The wife's alibi is rock solid. She flew out of Logan with her kids at 8:00 a.m. on Wednesday, checked into the Atlantis in Nassau, Bahamas at 2:00 and didn't reenter the States until Friday evening. Her husband drove her to the airport and then worked all day on Wednesday. She didn't kill him."

"So he had a lover. We just haven't found her yet." Frost added.

"Or him." Maura added.


	12. Chapter 12

"Rizzoli to my office." Lieutenant Cavanaugh didn't exactly look angry, but his brows were drawn together and his shoulders sagged.

Maura leaned across Jane's desk and whispered to Frost. "I have such trouble reading his expression. He always looks so unhappy."

Jane pushed away from the desk and walked reluctantly into her boss's office, shutting the door behind her.

"Yeah, Lou." She stood in front of the battered wooden desk where Sean Cavanaugh sat rubbing his temples.

"Sit down, Rizzoli. What happened to your face?"

"Had a little accident, but I'm fine. I can get a clearance note from a doctor if you need it."

Cavanaugh's lips quirked in a half smile. "Would that doctor be Maura Isles, M.D.?"

"Uh, yeah." Jane looked up, matching his smirk.

"Forget it." He waved his hand in a vaguely dismissive gesture. He sighed heavily and met Jane's eyes.

"I just got a call from the Commissioner himself, who got a call from the Mayor this morning and I think you can guess where this is going."

"No idea, Sean. Does the city want to buy us new softball uniforms?"

"Ha. You wish. Apparently Rigsdale's law firm is a big contributor to the mayoral campaign and the partners want this case solved."

"Well, duh!" Jane stood up quickly. "We all want this case cleared. Does the mayor think we like to see scumbags get away with murder?"

Cavanaugh stood as well and then sat again. Men often preferred not to stand around Jane Rizzoli, her towering height making them feel small and ill at ease.

"The order from the top is that this case takes precedence."

Jane slammed her fist against her thigh. "God damn it. So a poor black woman and her sons get kicked to the curb for some rich white fuck? Do you want to tell that to Frost?"

Cavanaugh shook his head and began rooting around in a drawer for his Pepto. "No, I don't and I fully expect my team to disregard that order and to clear all four murders as quickly as possible."

"Three. Maura is ruling Deniece Smoot a suicide."

Cavanaugh shook his head sadly. "She's still dead because her two sons were murdered."

"Yup." Jane agreed. "Anything else?"

The Lieutenant hesitated, unsure if he should say anything more. Jane had turned and had her hand on the knob when he spoke, more softly than usual.

"I just wanted you to know that if any of the guys here give you a hard time about... you know, you and the doc, just let me know. I'm glad for you, Jane. Glad for you both."

Jane squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists. "I can fight my own battles, Sean. I always have."

"I know, Rizzoli. But, I got your back. I always have."

She was out the door and back at her desk before she realized she had forgot to correct his assumption.

"You in trouble, Janie?" Korsak asked as he wiped Cheese Doodle residue from his goatee.

"Nah. Cavanaugh was going to ask me for medical clearance to return to work, but changed his mind when he realized Maura would write up anything for me."

Maura looked up from where she was staring with fixed interest at Frost's computer screen.

"I would do no such thing, Jane. I take my Hippocratic Oath very seriously. I would never attest to a false medical condition or write a prescription for an unnecessary medication."

"Oh yeah." Jane crossed her arms and looked down at the M.E. "You wrote quite a whopper for me last year when you wanted me to go to New York with you for your blah-de-blah blah conference. It was so full of big Greek and Latin words, made me scared that I might actually be dying."

Maura bit her lower lip and looked confused and then brightened. "I remember that, Jane. I said that you had Onychocryptosis and a microbial inflammation of the paronychium, an ingrown toenail. It was true. I dug it out for you in the hotel room."

Jane rolled her eyes, but didn't reply. "And the brass wants Phillip Rigsdale's murderer found stat."

"I may have something here, Jane." Frost gestured to the screen that he and the M.E. had been focused on earlier.

"Whatcha got?" Jane strode around the desk to join them.

"Bank records came through. The Rigsdales were not rich. Not poor, mind you, but not filthy rich. Their house was heavily mortgaged, they have tons of credit card debt and it looks like he just applied for a second mortgage and was approved."

Korsak joined them as well. "Did the wife cosign?"

Frost quickly scanned the files. "Nope, just him."

"Did the money change hands?" Jane asked, her eyes still riveted to the screen.

"No." Frost confirmed. "The approval came through on Monday, but he never made it to the bank to sign on the dotted line."

"So, he needed money for something, maybe a girlfriend, and took a loan against his house. When the wife found out, she killed him... only, she didn't."

Korsak drew a heavy line between Crystal and Phillip Rigsdale and then erased it. "Let's bring her in again and see what she knew about this loan."

* * *

Crystal Schaefer Rigsdale was a big woman, almost as tall as Jane, but probably forty pounds heavier, her saving grace that she carried the weight in all the right places, for now.

"Damn, baby got back." Frost nodded appreciatively as he watched through the two-way glass.

"She has plenty of front, too. Oh, sorry, Doc." Korsak noticed the M.E. standing behind him.

"That's quite all right, detectives. I can appreciate an attractive woman. Although, that type of exaggerated femininity is more likely to appeal to men. Studies have shown that large breasts and broad hips send a primal signal to males that the female is ripe, fertile. It's a base, hormonal instinct that makes you want to protect her, mount her, mate with her."

"Thanks for the anthropology lesson, Jane Goodall." Jane poked her friend in the arm as she opened to the door to the interview room. "I can hear everything you say in my ear piece, so stop the chattering."

Jane sat down across from the woman and introduced herself.

"Mrs. Rigsdale, I want to extend my deepest condolences for the death of your husband. I'm so sorry to have to ask you down here during this difficult time."

"Can you ask her to remove her sunglasses." Maura's voice in her earpiece. "I need to see her eyes to read her facial responses."

The eyes when revealed were swollen, bloodshot and sore, but their owner met Jane's gaze with a frank, unblinking openness.

"I didn't kill my husband."

"I don't think that you did."

Nevertheless, Jane took her through the events of the days leading up to the death, the trip to the Bahamas and the rushed flight home after the murder.

"Mr. Rigsdale had a half-million dollar insurance policy naming you as sole beneficiary."

The widow frowned.

"You know, I grew up in Southie."

"No kidding." Korsak chuckled in Jane's ear.

"My father was a milkman." She continued. "And I married a man who made a quarter of a million dollars a year, plus bonuses. If someone told me that I'd have that kind of money growing up, I couldn't imagine it."

Jane nodded, keeping eye contact. "I understand. I'm a North End plumber's daughter."

"But it's not enough. The mortgage, tuition for the kids, keeping up with the phonies. In Southie, we'd live like kings on that kind of money. In Beacon Hill it was shit."

She sniffled and Jane impulsively took her hand.

"So half a million ain't gonna cut it for me and the kids, it will barely cover our debts. Now that Phil's gone, I will have to sell the house for less than we owe and move back in with my parents. The girls will go to the same crap school I went to and probably not to college."

"Didn't Phillip's family have money?"

"Yeah. But they cut him off when he married me. I tried, believe me, I even named my first daughter after that old bitch. Prudence, can you imagine? But his mother is leaving everything to her charity. His sister won't get anything either; she lives on a dyke commune in freakin' Oregon and shits on her vegetables."

Crystal pulled her hand away. "Um, no offense, detective."

Korsak giggled in her ear.

"Did you know your husband applied for a second mortgage against your home a few days before his death?"

"Phil handled that stuff. I left it to him. I don't know about finance."

"Did he have a girlfriend?"

"No. Definitely not. That stuff I know about."

"Ask about the Mayflower." Maura prodded.

"Did Phil's family belong to The General Society of Mayflower Descendants?" Jane asked, more to humor the doctor than because she thought it relevant.

"How the fuck should I know." Crystal replied, her Southie accent growing heavier as she grew more upset.

"Tell her what it is." Maura again.

"Did Phil's family come to America on the Mayflower?"

Crystal Rigsdale looked at her blankly. "You mean did they wear funny hats and eat turkey with the Indians? Who gives a crap. We all got here some way on some boat, right?"

"Ask about the painting." Maura insisted.

"Maura." Jane growled into her lapel mike.

"Please, Jane."

"Where did you get the painting above your mantel, Mrs. Rigsdale?"

"From my mother-in-law, the only thing she ever gave us. I hung it cause I thought it looked classy. Why? Is it worth something? Maybe it could pay tuition for Pru and Paris for another year."

"Nah." Jane replied honestly. "It's a copy of a famous painting of the Mayflower. It's essentially worthless."

"What's with the Mayflower?" Crystal asked. "Do you think he was murdered by a fuckin' Pilgrim?"

"No. It's not important. I have one more question and then we're done. Where did you meet your husband, Mrs. Rigsdale?"

"At the Blackstone Pool."

She smiled for the first time and Jane could finally understand what Phillip Rigsdale saw in this brash woman.

"My uncle got me a city job; I was a towel girl and Phil volunteered there teaching poor kids to swim. He was a good guy, detective. Not handsome, but kind and sweet and he loved me, you know?"

"I'm sure he did." Jane smiled at her sadly. "I will just need contact information for your motherin-law and sister-in-law and then you are free to go."

Jane caught Maura's eye on the way out of the interview room. "Well?"

"I believe every word she said."

"Yeah, me too."

* * *

Jane rode the elevator down to the morgue slumped against the stainless steel wall with her eyes was beyond exhausted; she was certain that if Maura looked at her blood through a microscope her very cells would be yawning, her atoms and DNA crankily jostling each other for napping space. All she wanted was to go home and sack out on top of her bed and to wake up with her three murders cleared and the long Memorial Day weekend ahead of her. She exited on the basement level and trudged down the white tiled hallway toward the morgue doors.

"Maur? You here? You okay?"

She walked through the empty autopsy suite and lifted her hand to knock on a frosted glass door marked "Maura D. Isles, M.D. Chief Medical Examiner."

"Detective Rizzoli!" Susie Chang called, her head sticking out from her adjoining office. "Dr. Isles asked that she not be disturbed."

"Even by me?" Jane replied.

"Well, she wasn't specific about who, just that I should hold her calls, intercept visitors and not interrupt her, so..." Susie looked uncomfortable. "Consider yourself intercepted."

_God bless Susie Chang, she really was a perfect assistant to the M.E.: as literal as Maura herself and as loyal as Jo Friday. _

Jane smiled and lifted her hand again. "I'm sure she will make an exception for me."

"Yes, of course, you're... um..." Susie stammered, looking abashed. Jane sighed, realizing what Susie had meant, but before she could utter a word, the Senior Criminologist had fled back into her own office and shut the door.

"Balls." Jane muttered, pulling her hand back for the second time.

_What could Maura be doing in there? Maybe something gay. Entertaining a woman? No. Masturbating?_

_Eww. No. Rizzoli, man up and knock. _

Before she could the door opened and she was met by the curious hazel eyes of Dr. Isles.

"Jane, what are you doing out here. I saw your shadow bobbing through the glass. Why didn't you just come in?"

"Susie said you didn't want to be disturbed." Jane replied feeling a bit foolish.

"That doesn't mean you, ever." Maura grabbed her elbow and pulled her into the office, shutting the door behind them.

Jane plopped down on the stiff, unyielding sofa across from the desk with a groan. The ugliness of Maura's office furniture was only surpassed by its lack of comfort, and yet each piece probably cost more than Jane's monthly salary. If she ever had her own office, she'd have a couple of La-Z-Boy recliners and a foosball table.

"Jane?" The detective was roused from her revery. "Jane, are you daydreaming?"

"Umm, yeah, but nothing weird, just how I would decorate my office if I ever make Lieutenant."

"You will and I will help you decorate; it will be the most chic and sophisticated work area in the entire Boston PD."

"Er, no, Maur. Chic and sophisticated is not the look I was thinking of, more laid-back and comfortable. Anyway, what happened to you? You got a text and bolted. I thought you were my constant companion today. I could've been concussed and lying in my own vomit and you would never know."

Maura looked genuinely horror stricken. She crossed the room, grabbed an ophthalmoscope and returned to the sofa, sitting gingerly in Jane's lap. She leaned in and peered through her instrument at the detective's perfectly normal pupils. She put the tool down and began gently palpitating Jane's scalp, careful not to snare a ring or watchband in the dark curls. At that moment, two quick knocks sounded and Susie Chang entered, a manila folder in hand.

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Isles. I'll just leave this here." She was out the door flushing and near tears behind her large glasses.

They both realized how it must look, the doctor sitting on the detective and running her fingers though her hair.

"Poor Susie, she embarrasses so easily. I'll make it right before she leaves for the day." Maura sighed and left the sofa to pick up the folder. She read and frowned, closed it and passed it to Jane.

"This is what caused me to abandon you so suddenly, Jane. Susie texted me that my DNA results were complete and all I could think of was to get down here as quickly as possible. I think you are fine, by the way. The likelihood of a concussion at this point is statistically negligible."

Jane glanced at rows of letters and numbers and quickly shut the folder. "I have no idea what I'm looking at. Just tell me in plain English."

Maura sat on the edge of her desk and looked at the detective.

"Prescott and Prior are not Paddy Doyle's sons. I don't know why, but I am strangely disappointed by this. I was so certain, Jane; the same Morton's toes, the 'P' names, the violence of their deaths." She wiped away a tear.

Jane hesitated a moment; things were strange between them since Maura's coming out, then with three quick strides she closed the distance and wrapped her long arms around the smaller woman, pulling her close and murmuring comforting words into her soft hair, occasionally planting a quick kiss on the top of her head.

"I wanted to solve this for you, Jane. I wanted to hand you your killer wrapped up like a bone." Maura's muffled voice vibrated against Jane's collar.

"A bow, Maur. Wrapped up with a bow." Jane chuckled. Her friend could be so adorably clueless sometimes.

"I think." Jane punctuated her thought with a kiss to the doctor's temple. "You were hoping for some connection to your past as much as wanting to help me with my case, and that's okay."

Maura nodded against her neck. It felt so right to be in Jane's arms, to feel her steady pulse against her cheek, her strong hands stroking up and down her spine. She snuggled in closer until their bodies were flush, thigh to thigh, hip to hip and her detective's firm torso pressed against her breasts.

_Kiss me, Jane. Please. _

It was as if Jane could read her mind; she gently, but firmly extracted herself from the M.E.'s embrace and turned toward the office door. "C'mon, Maur. Drop me off home. I just want to eat a bologna sandwich and sleep for ten hours."

Maura nodded sadly, picked up her purse and followed her beloved toward the parking garage.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: This chapter is a little sexy and should probably be rated M, just sayin'.

* * *

Maura roamed restlessly through her home, straightening pictures that were hung perfectly true, dusting where there was no dust, fluffing pillows that were plump as summer geese and refolding towels that were already crisp and even. Her beloved tortoise kept out of her way, somewhere in his reptilian brain he must have feared being vacuumed, Pledged, and scrubbed into submission.

She sat in her favorite chair and opened _The American Journal of Clinical Pathology_; she had been doling out articles to herself one a day like candy to make them last longer, but tonight even the much anticipated "DNA Sequencing for Direct Identification of Invasive Fungi" couldn't hold her interest. She had read the first three pages twice and couldn't recall a word of it.

On nights like this she often found herself changing out of her pajamas, reapplying her makeup and heading to Merch. She would sit at the bar if a stool were available or if not, find a column or wall to lean against and drink her two glasses of wine. Most nights no one approached her, no one asked her to dance or if she wanted a drink or even asked her to move down so a friend could sit. She sat alone, lost in thoughts as diverse as:

_Are Jane's nipples in the pink or brown family? _

_Would I be better served to use a #21 or #24 scalpel to bisect the glenohumeral ligament? _

_What does Jane taste like? _

_Why am I always alone? _

Occasionally a woman would engage her in conversation, but almost inevitably be put off by something the genius doctor said. She suspected people were both intimidated by her intellect and bored by her inability to stop talking about her own cerebral interests. With men it was always easier, their physical needs were such that they would feign interest long enough to get a beautiful woman home and into bed. Women were harder, there had to be a connection beyond the physical and Maura found it very difficult, almost impossible to connect on that level with anyone.

_Except for Jane, of course. _

Only a few times, if she stayed later than she planned, had a third or even a fourth glass of wine, she found that she could rise above her insecurities, approach a woman and maybe spend the balance of her evening making out in a stall in the bathroom, or in the back of her Prius or even bring a woman to her home for more.

She rose, placing a bookmark in her journal and looked around for something else to do. She was out now and it didn't seem right to slink around in a bar looking for physical release with women a decade or more her junior.

_Oh Jane, why can't you just love me? _

Fighting back tears, she lifted the phone and dialed. Within a minute the sleepy voice of Constance Isles came across the miles.

"Maura, darling, you are making this a habit."

* * *

Despite her exhaustion, Jane couldn't sleep. Her thoughts whirred around in her brain like fast-moving insects that buzzed her ears too quickly for her hands to grasp, smash or push away.

Swimming pools, pilgrims, Maura, dead boys with beautiful green eyes and café au lait skin, small bullets, blood and more blood, Maura again, lesbians, sailing ships and Thanksgiving turkeys, Roxbury and Beacon Hill, her childhood home in the North End, Maura's home in Back Bay, Southie and Holworthy Street, Deniece Smoot covered in gore, Phillip Rigsdale slashed apart, knives and guns, Maura again.

"Shit." She kicked aside her blankets, displacing Jo Friday who trotted out of the bedroom with a backward glance of disdain. "I think I'm losing my fucking mind."

She padded into the living room wearing only the faded Red Sox tank that she slept in. If Maura were here she would have pulled on a pair of shorts, alone she didn't care.

She fell into the sofa cushions bareassed and flipped on the television. The comforting sounds of Sports Talk filled her silent living room and she relaxed, closing her eyes. Her hand began to wander, almost of its own accord, down her firm abdomen through the thick thatch of dark hair below her navel and hesitating just an instant, into the moist folds of her sex. Jane wasn't a creative masturbator, she didn't build elaborate fantasies to enhance the mood, didn't use any toys or visual aids, never pulled back to prolong the sensation; for her it was merely a need that had to be met and she went about it with the same efficiency and expediency that she would any other mundane task.

"At any given time approximately 4,000 Bostonians are engaged in self-gratification." She remembered Maura reciting this bizarre factoid, although she may have misremembered the actual number.

_Maura. _

It was like an electric jolt through her clit. Jane immediately pulled her hand back and sat up, closing her legs.

_No. I'm not going to do that, not gonna rub one out thinking of my best friend. I'll never be able to look at her again_.

She walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge, about to pull out a beer, but it didn't feel right.

She slammed the door and leaned against it. She was cranky and tired. She needed to come and then sleep, and she knew the latter would elude her until she took care of the former. She stomped back into her bedroom and lay on her back. She began again, but thoughts of the M.E. made her stop twice. Jane was frustrated now and she lay rigid and angry with her eyes open staring at a spider slowly making its way across the blade of her ceiling fan.

_Maybe this once and it will get her out of my system. _

She reached once more through the damp curls and gasped as she felt how wet she'd become, almost too wet, her fingers slipped through the slickness, leaving her clit wanting in the friction she needed to get off quickly, yet more sensitive to touch. She rubbed softer and slower, circling her swollen center. She let her mind go where it would.

_Maura__._

_Maura with her magical mood ring eyes. _

_Maura with her large, soft breasts._

_Maura pressed against her, breathing her sweet breath into Jane's mouth. _

When she came the world went black for a second and she grasped her soaking sex tightly to brace against the spasms that squeezed and pulsed against her hand.

She was curled on her side, still throbbing with gentle aftershocks when the phone rang. She tried to ignore it and focus on holding on to the fleeting pleasure, but the insistent ringing was jarring and blocked out the sweet feeling of release. Jane felt all the tension of the past week settle once again across her shoulders.

She grabbed at the offending instrument and brought it to her ear without looking at the display.

"Rizzoli." She panted.

"Jane? What are you doing?"

_Maura. _

"Sleeping."

"Why are you out of breath?"

"I had to run for the phone."

"How far? You shouldn't be out of breath, Jane."

"Grrrr, Maura, you caught me. I was taking a shit."

"Oh. Do you want to finish and call me back?"

"No." Jane rolled over and wiped her free hand, still damp on her tank top.

"I just spoke with my mother." Maura began.

"Mmm." Jane replied.

"I asked her to access the membership rolls of the GSMD and the Rigsdales were definitely not members, not even the mother-in-law, Prudence."

Jane sighed. "Maur, you're obsessed with this Mayflower shit. I really don't think it is relevant to anything."

"Wait, Jane. Guess who was a member?"

"No fucking idea, Maur."

Jane was losing patience, all the post-climactic release now gone completely.

Maura grinned into the phone, thrilled with her own detective work.

"Who?" Jane demanded loudly.

"Deniece Fuller Smoot."

Jane sat up in bed.

"What?"


	14. Chapter 14

Jane grit her teeth and pounded her fist against her steering wheel. She had overslept, right through her alarm, and now she was stuck in the worst part of the morning rush hour. Normally she would already be at her desk and enjoying her second cup of joe. She stabbed her finger at the preset buttons of her radio trying to catch a traffic report; if there was an accident or a disabled vehicle ahead, she could turn off and try a different route. All that came through was the usual crappy pop music and cocky morning DJ assholes, those jerks who thought it was funny to make prank calls to people with limited English skills. She punched the radio off with a groan and rubbed at her sore eyes. When she'd finally fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, she'd had one of those bizarre dreams that left her feeling that she was reaching for something just a millimeter beyond her grasp and that if she only stretched a bit more she would have it.

_She was floating across an indoor pool in a miniature replica of the Mayflower. She kept trying to look behind her to where children were splashing and laughing, but a mist rising from the chlorinated water obscured her view. She was straining to hear a man's voice instructing her on how to plug the leak that had sprung in the vessel's bottom, but was distracted by a very naked Maura swimming laps around her boat. "Come in, Jane, the water's fine." She said. _

She didn't need a Ph.D. in psychology to understand the second part of the dream, but what was the connection to the goddamn Mayflower? Now she was even dreaming of the freakin' boat, and what of Deniece Smoot, a working-class black woman being a GSMD member? She resolved to see this line of inquiry through. She'd grab Frost and drive to Plymouth this morning. If there was something hiding beneath that famous rock, Jane Rizzoli would damn well find it. She nodded to herself, a bit of her good humor returning and pulled into an illegal spot in front of headquarters.

* * *

Jane sank into her chair, coffee in hand, ready to defend her plan to drive all the way out to Plymouth to follow up on what she had begun to think of as "Mayflower Madness" and "Pilgrim Paranoia."

"That's fine, Janie." Korsak replied indifferently, busy licking french cream from his fingers.

"M'kay." Said Frost, very intent on unwrapping something gooey and delicious smelling in a pink box on his desk.

"Whatcha got there, Frost?"

Jane stood and leaned over the divide between their desks.

"A perfect beignet filled with french cream and dusted with angels' kisses."

He lifted the cruller skyward in appreciation.

"I bought a half dozen of these puppies for my mom when she was in town and it set me back forty-two bucks."

"Worth every penny." Korsak replied, rooting around his empty pink box in search of a stray bit of cream.

"Doc brought them for us. There's a box on your desk too, under that folder."

Jane tugged at the black velvet ribbon securing her pink box. Growling in frustration she pulled a box cutter from her drawer and the perfectly constructed bow collapsed into a pile on her blotter.

"What the fuck!"

She reached her hand into the box and withdrew a small, plain bran muffin. "No way. You guys get those big, creamy, delicious donuts and I get a freakin' bran muffin? "

She dumped the offending box into the garbage, crossed her arms and scowled. After a moment she reached into the can and extracted the box.

Korsak smiled. "I don't blame you, Janie. A bran muffin from Marie Claudette's is bound to be better than most desserts anyplace else."

"Finish up your bidet, Frosty-boy, I want to hit Plymouth and be back by lunch time."

Jane took a huge swig from her coffee mug.

"You're on your own, Jane. Korsak and I have a few appointments at BCU this morning."

"Going to talk to the Bursar and swim coach and maybe some of the Smoot kid's buddies on the team. Why don't you take the Doc? Those are her people, probably make it easier on you."

Korsak gave up on finding crumbs and sadly dropped his box into the trash. Jane punched the extension for the morgue into her phone, not at all surprised that it was answered on the first ring.

"Dr. Isles."

"Maur, you busy today?"

"I don't have any autopsies, but I had planned to spend the morning analyzing the blood spatter patterns from the Rigsdale house, maybe get a fix on the height of your killer."

"Oh." Jane poked at her bran muffin. "I just thought you might like to take a ride with me to Plymouth. You're the one who's so obsessed with the damn Mayflower after all."

"Give me 15 minutes. Susie can do the preliminary spatter tests. I'll get a few things together and we can have a lovely picnic lunch in Pilgrim Memorial State Park."

Maura's voice practically buzzed with happiness across the phone line.

"Speaking of food..." Jane asked. "Why did everyone get a nice doughnut for breakfast and I got a boring old bran muffin?"

"Well, you did complain of bathroom difficulties last night. You seemed to be out of breath from the effort to evacuate your bowels. Adding fiber to one's diet is the easiest and most natural cure for constipation. As a matter of fact, Asian Indians produce nearly three times the amount of fecal matter that Americans do, yet they eat considerably less."

"Maura! Stop it! Eww!" After a pause she added, sotto voce. "That wasn't even what I was doing."

The M.E. was silent on the other end of the line, her brows drawn together in deep thought, then her face brightened. "Jane, were you pleasuring yourself?"

Jane groaned.

"Masturbation is an excellent outlet for anxiety. It fights off depression, heightens self-esteem, boots the immune system, lowers blood pressure, normalizes hormone production in the body. Every doctor should prescribe a healthy dose of it. As a matter of fact, Jocelyn Elders, the Surgeon General during the Clinton administration, did just that. She had to step down due to the controversy, but nonetheless, she was a strong advocate for the practice."

Jane's voice was a high-pitched rasp in her ear. "Mauuuura, I am going to hang up now. If you bring it up again, I swear I will drown you in Plymouth Harbor."

Maura made a mental note to add the image of a masturbating Jane Rizzoli to her own autoerotic fantasies. She bit her lower lip and trembled at the thought.

* * *

The Mayflower House Museum was a sprawling white colonial with black shutters set on a manicured swath of green lawn and perfectly trimmed hedgerows.

"What an ugly building." Jane stopped outside of the gates and looked at the gleaming white edifice.

Maura stopped beside her and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the mid-morning sun.

"It was probably once a lovely home, beautiful in its simplicity, but you're right, Jane, the constant additions over the centuries have thrown off the classical proportions of the building and rendered it inelegant. It has everything: porches, columns, a widow's walk and even a cupola. It's just too much."

She slipped her arm through Jane's and leaned in, warming to her subject. "Our perception of beauty is directly linked to proportion, whether in art, architecture or the human form and visage. We are coded to prefer that which is balanced and symmetrical."

Jane stiffened briefly at the physical contact, but did not pull away. "I thought beauty was in the eye of the beholder."

Maura nodded "Individual preferences are indeed subjective; one may prefer blonde hair to dark or a lean form to one more generous, but all humans, even babies, will prefer both faces and bodies with a greater measure of symmetry in features and limbs. Likewise, we prefer buildings that are symmetric in their layout and adhere to classic ratios of proportion."

"Is there anything you don't know?" Jane smiled and squeezed the doctor's hand before withdrawing and covering the last few yards to the door in a relaxed lope.

"Yes." Maura replied earnestly. "Lots."

They were directed to a smaller building directly behind the main house, which housed the Mayflower Library and office of the Historian General.

Jane was expecting a skinny little Poindexter with giant glasses, hearing aids and a self-conscious stutter. The Historian General was, however, a tall, handsome black man in his early thirties, dressed casually in a pair of dockers and a pale pink oxford shirt. He greeted them with a warm smile and saw them into a sitting room out of the public' s view.

"I'm Bradley Brewster, the head geek around here." He extended his hand and Maura immediately took it, meeting his smile with one of her own.

"Maura Isles, MD."

"Isles... hmm. We have a Dr. Isles on our board. Any relation to Constance?"

"I'm her daughter."

"Ah! A pleasure, indeed." Jane pulled her shield and cred pack and held it up before taking a seat next to Maura on a maroon settee.

Brewster glanced at it briefly as he sat on a wing chair opposite the pair. To his credit, he showed no reaction to Jane's still bruised and swollen jaw.

"I'm happy to assist in any way I can."

Jane sat in an uncomfortable silence, unsure where to begin and what to ask. Maura lay a gentle hand on her knee, a sign of support.

"I'm sorry Dr. Brewster. I'm not sure what I want to know and frankly I am surprised by your race."

"Jane!" Maura looked askance in horror, but Bradley Brewster just laughed.

"We have hundreds of members of mixed European and African ancestry, but I understand the perception of our society is very different than the reality."

Maura asked. "We are interested in one particular member, Deniece Fuller Smoot."

"I don't even have to consult my database on that one." Brewster replied. "Her son, Prescott was the winner of the Society's scholarship last year; we are paying half his tuition at BCU. Her younger son was accepted there this year, but unfortunately we have a policy of one scholarship per family. Ms. Smoot vowed to find the tuition money somewhere and last I heard, the younger son was planning to matriculate this fall."

He smiled and sat back in his chair.

"She's dead. So are her boys, Dr. Brewster. I'm grasping at straws here, but do you think her membership here pissed off anyone enough to kill? Could someone have been jealous of the scholarship? Tuition at BCU is a small fortune." Jane met his amber eyes with her own darker brown.

"No, no, I can't imagine that." The historian looked to be in shock. They sat together in quiet for a few more minutes, all absorbed in their own sorrow.

Jane was the first to stand. She reached her hand toward the still seated man.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Brewster. May I call you if I have any further questions?"

"Yes. Yes, of course." He rose and shook Jane's hand and then turned to Maura. "It was a pleasure meeting you and your wife, Dr. Isles. Please remember me to your mother."

Jane rolled her eyes.

_Wife, really? _

If someone had said this last month they would have laughed about it and maybe played it up for their own amusement. Now it stung and embarrassed Jane. She set her jaw and headed for the closed door. They were out of the sitting room when Jane turned, deciding on a whim to ask about her other murder.

"Dr. Brewster, do you know a family named Rigsdale?"

"Yes, of course. There were Rigsdales on the Mayflower, but there are no descendants of that family."

"Right." Jane turned once again to leave.

"Funny thing, though." Brewster began speaking and then seemed to think better of it. "Maybe I shouldn't repeat this. It would be unkind."

"Please, Dr. Brewster, something you think is trivial may give us a break."

The historian grimaced. "There is this very unpleasant woman who has been trying to get into the Society for years. My predecessor told me about her and I myself have had the misfortune of making her acquaintance twice. She insists that there is sufficient proof in the archives that both she and her late husband are Mayflower descendants. She has even tried to buy her way in. She is completely obsessed."

"And her name?" Jane asked.

"Rigsdale. Prudence Rigsdale."

* * *

Jane walked briskly back to her Crown Vic. Maura had to half-jog on her shorter legs and higher heels to keep up. The detective slipped in behind the wheel and started the engine before the other woman had even closed the door.

"Jane, aren't we going to have our picnic lunch in the park?" Maura asked clicking her shoulder belt into place.

"Oh, Maur..." Jane groaned. "Can't we just eat the sandwiches in the car? It's a 40-mile ride back to Boston. I don't want to hit school traffic."

"Sure. I understand." The doctor answered in a quiet voice looking down at her hands folded neatly in her lap.

Jane groaned again. "Okay, 30 minutes in the park. Not a second longer."

The M.E.'s face brightened immediately. "Not a second, Jane. I promise. This will be much better since the meal I packed is not conducive to vehicular dining."

"What are we having, snail paté and truffled escargot?" Jane popped the trunk and grabbed the shiny metal cooler the doctor had stowed there.

Maura frowned. "Snails are escargot."

"Whatever, Maur." The detective had already slammed the trunk and was marching toward the sea. Maura didn't rush to keep up this time. She kept back and admired the view. Jane had a definite swagger, but the weight of the cooler in her right hand pulled her entire body in one direction and she overcompensated with a feminine roll of her slim hips in the other. The doctor licked her lips.

"No picnic tables. We will have to sit on the grass."

"Oh, Jane. I packed a body tarp. I'll just run back to the car and grab it."

"No time. Just... here. This is due for a trip to the dry cleaner anyway."

Jane pulled off her suit jacket and placed it on the ground in the shade of a large oak. Stepping out of her pumps, the doctor gracefully lowered herself onto the dark garment folding her bare legs beneath her.

Jane dropped to the grass opposite her and reached for the cooler. "What the fuck, Maur? Is this the body-part transport cooler?"

"Office of the Medical Examiner" and the "Seal of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts" were stamped on both sides of the gleaming metal chest.

"I'm not eating lunch from your decomp slop bucket." Jane's upper lip curled with disgust.

"Jane, it is perfectly sanitary. I always use a liner and disinfect after each use. It is constructed from surgical steel inside and out. I assure you that there are less icky things in that container than you would find in your average McWhopper sandwich."

The detective sighed deeply, but flipped open the cooler and began removing plastic containers. Fresh cut fruit, a large Greek salad, a plate of mozzarella and beefsteak tomatoes, a wedge of brie, a box of whole-grain crackers and two-liter bottles of Pellegrino water all emerged from the polished steel depths of the box.

"Where on earth did you get all this food in 15 minutes? Or are you always ready for a five-course picnic in the park?"

Maura giggled, tilting her head back to catch a warm ray of sun on her cheek. She was happy. This really could be enough for her, had been enough for years. She didn't need Jane to be her lover; she wanted it, yes, but could content herself with the intimate friendship she shared with the other woman. She knew she was Jane's only emotional partner as Jane was hers. As long as they could sit together in the park and mock flirt over lunch, share long hugs and the occasional platonic sleepover, she could bear it. As long as Jane didn't date, didn't fall in love. Casey had scared her, scared her out of the closet, in fact.

Jane watched her friend smiling in the sunshine, her face tilted up so that the copper in her hair blazed like flame and her alabaster skin seemed to glow as if lit from within. A stray beam caught the chain around her neck and light reflected from the dip in her collarbone and from her silvery watchband; for a moment Jane allowed herself to imagine kissing the doctor's soft neck and the delicate ivory skin on the inside of her wrist.

_She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen_. She thought, but what she said was, "Earth to Maura. Are we eating or daydreaming?"

Maura turned back to Jane with a smile. Her eyes in this light were the exact color of Plymouth Harbor, sea-glass green, and Jane had to turn away from their gaze. She toyed with the lid of the salad container and then with her iphone.

"Jane, a pen for your thoughts."

Now she was the one daydreaming.

"A penny, Maur. It's a penny for your thoughts."

Maura furrowed her brow. "That is completely nonsensical. Your thoughts are worth much more than a penny to me."

Jane smiled; the awkwardness of the previous moment was broken. "And how does a pen make more sense?"

"To write them down, of course."

Jane laughed and unable to resist, reached out and pushed a wisp of dark blond hair out of her friend's face.

"Really, where did you get this food?"

"Mostly from your mother and a few things I had lying around the morgue."

"Tell me what came from the morgue, so I won't eat it."

"Just the brie and the water, both perfectly sanitary I assure you."

Jane shifted her weight on the grass. The butt of her gun was digging into her ribs.

"Did my mother grill you?"

"About what?" Maura looked genuinely confused.

"You know... the gay thing."

"Oh. Not really. She wanted to know if I was seeing someone. I said no. She asked if I told my mother. I said yes and what my mother said and then we talked about you."

Maura popped a kalamata olive into her mouth. Their piquant flavor always reminded her of Jane: her Mediterranean heritage and the sharp and biting wit that marked her very essence. Maybe Jane would taste like an olive, slick and briny.

Jane interrupted her thoughts. "What about me?"

"Oh. Nothing really. She thinks you're avoiding her."

"I am."

"Because you don't want to talk to her about me or..."

_That too._ Jane thought. "No, Maura. I don't want her to see my face."

"It's healing very nicely. If you can avoid her another ten days, you should be good as new."

Jane snorted. "There are three things you can't avoid: death, taxes and Angela Rizzoli."

"Uh, Maur, What did your mother say?"

"She said she always knew. That a mother always knows."

Jane looked over the green expanse of water to where a group of school children were boarding the replica of the famous ship. She watched them in silence for a few minutes and then jumped up.

"C'mon. Half hour is definitely up. Back to work, Dr. Isles."


	15. Chapter 15

Frost and Korsak were both on the phone when Jane returned to the squad room. Vince nodded and _yes_sed into his receiver occasionally jotting a word or two in his notebook. Frost appeared to be on hold; resting the handset against his chest and announced, "Your mother's looking for you, Jane."

She considered heading down to the morgue for the rest of the afternoon. Angela Rizzoli lacked the clearance to enter that part of the building and so it became both a hideout and sanctuary for both Jane and her brother. She picked up the phone and found herself dialing Angela's cell rather than the ME's extension. In less than a single ring her mother's voice came over the line.

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli, you are avoiding me and I do not like it."

"Ma, I'm investigating three homicides. Checking in with my mommy is not on the top of my list."

"I don't like the sarcasm, Janie. Where are you?"

"Uh... in the morgue." Jane lied. "I was going to ask you if I could take you to dinner maybe."

Jane pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it in disbelief. Did those words actually come out of her mouth?

Angela's anger instantly evaporated. "My baby wants to take me to dinner." Jane heard her mother telling someone. " No. Janie. You come over to me and I'll cook for you. You save your money. You don't have a husband to support you."

Jane rolled her eyes. Her mother couldn't resist a dig. "Fine."

"Fine." They both hung up.

"You're a good daughter, Janie." Korsak said, evidently having finished his call in time to eavesdrop on Jane's.

"Yeah. Yeah." Jane waved at him dismissively.

"Did you buy me a souvenir from Plymouth?"

"Yeah. I got you a T-shirt that says, 'My great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather came over on the Mayflower and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.'"

Frost hung up his phone. "Was it a wasted trip?"

"Nah. Maura and I had a nice picnic lunch in the park."

"Sounds romantic." Korsak batted his eyes and Jane winged him with a rubber band.

"Actually, " she said, "We found out a few interesting things. First of all, Prescott Smoot was the recipient of a GSMD scholarship worth half his tuition."

"Yup." Frost confirmed. "We got the same info from the Bursar at BCU. The other half was a swimming scholarship."

"And we didn't have to drive an hour down Route 3 to learn that." Korsak chuckled.

"Are you two ass clowns interested in this or not?"

"Sure, go on. We're very sorry." Korsak put on his most angelic face.

"Secondly," Jane held up two long fingers. "Prior was also accepted at BCU, but GSMD will only fund one child per family, so no cash there."

Frost cleared his throat. "We also discovered that at BCU, Jane. He did matriculate. Pell grant covered about three grand. His mom signed a promissory note for the balance. It's due the day classes start."

Jane considered this. "What's the balance?"

Frost checked his notes. "Twenty seven."

"Guess she was planning to pick up a few extra cleaning jobs over the summer to come up with the twenty seven hundred bucks."

"No." Frost replied. "That would be twenty-seven thousand dollars. And that is for the fall semester only, not for the entire academic year."

Jane whistled. "I guess she could've cleaned twenty-four, seven and never have come up with that kind of cash."

Korsak crossed to the white board and picked up a marker. He drew a large $ under Deniece Smoot's photo and an arrow pointing to Prior. "Maybe she got involved in some nasty business to make tuition money."

Jane nodded. "That could explain why she said it was all her fault after Prescott's death and the reason she took her own life."

"Makes sense; the first son might have been a random victim of street violence, but with the second, it proved personal."

"You find any other clues hiding under that famous rock?" Frost flashed his partner a bright smile.

"Nah. Oh, maybe. The Historian General knew Philip Rigsdale's mother, said she was a fuckin' bitch on wheels."

"Is that the way Historians General speak these days?" Korsak crossed to the other white board and underlined the name Prudence Rigsdale.

"He actually said she was a very unpleasant woman and that she was obsessed with getting into the society."

"We have to bring her in. She's been avoiding talking to us since the day of the murder."

Korsak sighed. "I just got off the phone with her secretary. Apparently she is in seclusion since the death of her only son."

Frost smirked. "The son that she disinherited because he married a black girl from Southie?"

"That would be the one. But, secretary says she is on her yacht, someplace between Nantucket and Cape May. She's due home after Memorial Day, so this will have to sit through the weekend."

Jane's phone buzzed. She unclipped it from her belt and glanced at the screen.

"Maura wants to see us in the lab."

* * *

The M.E. was in a huddle with Senior Criminologist Chang when the three detectives entered through the airlock doors of the forensic lab. A white paper sheet roughly the size of a king mattress hung on one wall spattered with what appeared to be fresh blood, but was actually a mixture of gelatin, flour, sucrose, water and food dye. The artificial blood was prepared as needed in house by Susie Chang and very closely mimicked the properties of the real thing in terms of how drops elongated and distorted at various angles.

Korsak remembered when the forensic lab used equine blood for simulations and the peculiar sweet metallic odor it produced; many times more pungent than human blood, it clung to his nose hairs for hours. On the wall perpendicular to the spatter test were a series of UV crime photos of the Rigsdale crime scene, looking more like images of a thunderstorm than a murder. A second series of plain light photos showed the dead man _in situ_ and naked on the steel autopsy table.

"Whatcha got, Maur?" Jane asked.

The doctor crossed the room to stand by the photos while her assistant took her place at the spatter wall. As the M.E. pointed out the very real wounds on Phillip Rigsdale's corpse and the corresponding arterial sprays and spatters on the walls and floor of his living room, the other woman demonstrated the angles and motions necessary to recreate the patterns.

"Okay. So what does this tell us about our perp?"

Korsak had inched his way close to the spatter wall and was sniffing at the sticky gore.

"Strawberry?" He asked.

"Yes. Good nose, Sergeant." Susie responded.

"Your murderer was small." Dr. Isles stated.

Jane looked incredulous. "That's it? Small? Small like what Maura? Like a dwarf?"

Frost snickered, picturing a miniature pilgrim wielding a comically big knife. Jane glared at him and he immediately sobered.

"No, Jane, not a dwarf, merely an adult of statistically below-average height."

Jane spoke slowly and carefully as if her interlocutor was deficient in either intelligence or English language skills. "So... someone around your height?"

Maura tilted her head to the side. "No. I'm not statistically small in stature. I am, in fact, slightly taller than the average American woman. Your perspective is skewed, Jane, since you are statistically..."

"A giantess." Korsak proclaimed.

"An Amazon." Frost added.

Jane gave the stink eye to everyone in the room before asking, once again slowly and precisely. "Exactly, to the best of your ability to hypothesize, how tall is our murderer?"

"Between five feet and five feet three inches."

"Thank you, Maura." Jane responded with exaggerated politeness.

"So, we are most likely looking for a woman." Korsak stroked his goatee.

"Demographically, more women fall into that height range, but there is nothing in the forensic evidence that would indicate the gender of the assailant."

"Frost, call up the DMV database. See if Prudence Rigsdale has a driver's license."

The youngest detective tapped away on the terminal in the corner of the lab. A moment later the overhead LCD screen blazed to life and a green and blue image rendered into a Commonwealth of Massachusetts driver's ID card. The photo showed an attractive older woman with blond hair pulled severely back from her face.

"She looks just like a mean version of that English lady who gives out the trophies at Wimbledon." Korsak exclaimed. "Kind of a fox in a classy way."

"The Dutchess of Kent." Maura stated. "Yes. I see the resemblance."

"Blue eyes, five foot eleven." Frost read. "She's breathing your air, Jane. We can cross this one off the list."

"Not necessarily. My first license had a typo, it was missing a digit and listed me at five one. I was legal to drink, but no bar let me in thinking the card was a fake. It took months to get the DMV to admit they made a clerical error and issue a new ID. In the mean time I missed out on an entire summer of drinking with my friends. Maybe this is a mistake as well."

"C'mon, Jane, that's a real long shot." Korsak shook his head.

Jane reached for her phone and punched in a contact number and speaker. On the third ring the voice of Crystal Rigsdale filled the room. "Just a quick question, Mrs. Rigsdale." Jane spoke softer and more respectfully than she had all day.

"How tall is your mother-in-law?"

"What a weird question, detective. Haven't you met the old bitch yet?"

"Not yet. She's on her yacht, due home next week."

"Figures." Crystal Rigsdale clicked her tongue. "Well, I've never seen her standing up, but she has long legs and arms like a creepy insect and my husband was six three, so I think she must be around my height, maybe even taller. I'm five nine."

"You've never seen her standing?" Jane looked confused.

"Nope. The bitch had polio as a child, been in a wheelchair since Phil was a boy."

Frost joined the conversation. "Yet she drove?"

"Yes, always had a brand new Mercedes with hand controls... and a broom, of course."

Jane thanked the widow and hung up the phone.

"So she would be too tall to be our murderer, but if she was seated..."

"She would be too short, Jane." Maura finished her sentence.

"Damn it! I really wanted it to be her." Jane looked dejected.

"Me too. " Korsak shook his head sadly. "So we're back to the theory that this was a girlfriend, a lover. A crime of passion?"

"But the guy was squeaky clean. Can't find so much as a hint that he farted in church, much less had a secret lover." Jane whined.

"Could be rage, not passion." Maura mused.

"But the murderer cleaned up meticulously. Not a spot of blood or a fingerprint was found." Frost looked bewildered. "Like a premeditated crime."

Jane paced the small lab, rubbing at her scarred hands and thinking aloud.

"Our perp goes to visit Phil Rigsdale to confront him about something. She's pissed, out of her mind angry. He knows her, lets her in. They argue. She goes ape shit and slices him up. How many wounds, Maur?"

"One hundred fifty-two, ninety-six pre-mortem, fifty-six post." The doctor replied.

"Rage. Overkill." Frost mutters.

Jane resumed up her narrative. "She slices him up, continues to stab him after he has fallen to the ground, continues to assault him long after he has stopped breathing, after his heart is no longer pumping blood from the wounds. Then she stops and rationally cleans up the mess, cleans so thoroughly that we need luminol to find the blood. It makes no sense. Either this was premeditated or it was a crime of passion."

She stopped pacing, frowned and started again.

"She confronts him, kills him, stabs on until there is no more rage left in her. Then she looks around like, 'Holy shit, what did I do.' She pulls it together and decides to clean up."

Frost spoke. "Dr. Isles, can we determine what was used to clean the blood?"

"Absolutely. We have samples and Susie will run them through the mass spectrometer. We can probably use the results to match our cleaning product to a particular brand."

Frost smiled. "And then see if the killer brought in her own stash in anticipation of committing murder or used something from under Crystal Rigsdale' s kitchen sink."

Maura touched Jane's arm as the detectives were leaving the lab. "Jane, I am planning to spend this evening packing for the weekend." She bit her lip and looked away, suddenly unsure if she should continue. "That is, if you are still willing to go away with me."

With the strain of the past ten days, Jane had forgot that she promised to spend Memorial Day weekend at the Isles summer cottage on Cape Cod. She had been looking forward to it, but now the thought of being alone for three days with only Maura for company made Jane's stomach nervous.

"I don't know, Maur. Three murders. I should probably hang around Boston in case something comes up."

Korsak popped his head back into the lab. "Go, Jane. I'll be around. If anything comes up you're only two hours away."

Maura's face brightened and she chanced looking up into her friend's face. Jane's lips were tight and she carried tension in her jaw and the tendons of her neck, but she nodded.

"Yeah, Maur. I'm in. We'll go."

* * *

Jane entered her mother's kitchen clutching a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a squirming Jo Friday in the other. She felt strange having dinner here in Maura's guesthouse without having asked her friend to join them, but she knew instinctively that the doctor would have been more of a lightning rod between Jane and her mother than her usual buffer.

"Ma." She called, placing Jo gently on the floor and tossing the carnations onto the counter. The kitchen smelled wonderful; she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, smelling the porky goodness of pancetta wafting from a pot on the stove. She crossed the small kitchen and picked up the lid, vodka sauce. Jane smiled, one of her favorites since childhood. She heard her mother enter the room behind her.

"Can you make it with rigatoni and not penne, Ma?"

"Of course, Janie. I know my girl."

Angela was suddenly upon her, spinning her around and staring intently at the fading bruises and scar on her face. She cradled her daughter's chin in one hand and examined every inch of the discolored flesh, poking with her free hand.

"You fell." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

"You were drunk."

"Uh, yes."

Angela released her grip and took a step back, not breaking eye contact.

"Why?"

Jane sighed and shrugged.

"I don't know. I got a lot on my mind, work and stuff."

"Stuff?"

Angela wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily. Jane attempted to side-step the older Rizzoli, she made a dash toward the refrigerator intending to grab a beer. Her mother beat her to it and handed her a bottle of water.

"Are you depressed because of Casey?" Her mother asked.

"No." Jane answered truthfully. She had, in fact, forgotten about Casey Jones, dismissing him from her mind as quickly and completely as she had from her heart.

"I don't love him, Ma, never did."

"I know, sweetheart, but a mother can hope."

Angela turned to the closet and began rooting around.

"Janie, I need your height. See if there' s a box of rigatoni on the top shelf."

Jane knew her mother was not finished grilling her, she was like a cat, toying with its prey, allowing the little Jane-mouse to think it was safe before pouncing from another direction.

"So you don't love Casey." Angela muttered seemingly to herself. "Do you love anyone else?"

"Uh, no." Jane answered with just a shade less conviction than her previous denial of affection for Lt. Col. Jones.

"Okay, Janie. But I am your mother and will always love you. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, Ma. I know."

"All right. Go wash your hands."

Jane closed the bathroom door and leaned against the cool tile. Why did her mother always make her feel like she had done something terribly wrong? She examined her conscience. Clean. She knew, of course, on some level what her mother was hinting at, but she sure as hell wasn't going to discuss that with Angela Rizzoli.

When she returned to the kitchen, Angela had set the table and placed a large bowl of pasta in front of Jane's customary place. Jane tried to keep the conversation focused on her brothers and their issues; Frankie and his girlfriend of the week, Tommy and his woeful job prospects, a tactic that often worked, deflecting her mother's attention off of herself.

It worked all through the meal. By the time Angela brought out coffee and a plate of brownies, Jane was breathing easily and patting herself on the back for being the good daughter, having dinner with her mother on a Thursday night for no reason at all.

"So." Angela said, sitting across from her daughter, steaming mug in hand. "What do you think of Maura's outcome?"

"What?" Jane asked, genuinely confused.

"Isn't that the hip term, Jane? She's out of her closet, her outcome?"

"Oh, you mean coming out, mom. She has come out of the closet." Jane walked two fingers across the formica table top in illustration.

"Right. Well. Do you have an opinion on this momentous event, Janie?"

"Nope."

Jane crammed a third brownie into her mouth and rose to refill her coffee mug. Angela narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not surprised really. I see how she looks at men and how she looks at..." Angela's voice trailed off.

She took another sip of her coffee and continued. "She's had overnight guests of the female variety, too. Other than you, Janie. Had one just last weekend. I had to tease her a little about that one. I put her on the spot and she got all flustered."

Angela chuckled remembering the doctor's flushed face and nervous hands as she tried to explain away her "intern" who wasn't an intern. Jane was on her fourth brownie now, she was eating automatically; biting, chewing and swallowing, reaching for another and beginning again. Angela slapped at her daughter's hand.

"Enough, Jane. You're going to make yourself sick."

Angela sighed and stood taking the plate of chocolate with her.

"Go home, Jane, and get some sleep. I'm glad you came to dinner tonight with your old mother. I'll miss you on Sunday. Enjoy your long weekend with Maura. I hope you girls have fun."

She leaned down and kissed her daughter on top of the head and just like that Jane was free to go.


	16. Chapter 16

Maura unzipped the body bag that lay on a gleaming steel table in her pristine autopsy suite. Blood-matted, sandy-colored hair appeared followed by a pale face marred with scrapes and bruises. She had planned on giving this case, a classic hit and run, a cursory look and then passing it on to Dr. Pike, but once she gazed into the battered face of the young woman, she couldn't bring herself to delegate to her older, but much less meticulous colleague. She zipped up the bag again and turned to her office where she would change back into her scrubs.

Behind the frosted glass door she struggled to reach the back zipper on the tangerine sheath dress that clung perfectly to her curves. Though she could easily reach one bare arm behind her head and the other around her back and have them meet, she could not, no matter how she squirmed and groped, find the little metal zipper. She tried shimmying the dress up her torso, hoping to slip it over her head like a jumper, but the narrow waist wouldn't budge past her generous bust. She began to panic. Normally she would text Jane:

**Unzip me. **

or

**Zip me. **

as the situation warranted and the grouchy detective would tromp down to the morgue grumbling, "If you are going to wear clothes that need a ladies maid to put on and off, you should hire a freakin' maid." or "Here I come, Miss Scarlett, I'm-a gonna tie that corset tight as a catti-pilluh clingin' to a magnolia."

Today she did not want to ask this particular favor of Jane. She was so afraid to do anything that might scare the detective and cause her to cancel their weekend on Martha's Vineyard. She couldn't bear it if the three days that she had been counting down to for weeks were snatched away from her. She considered asking Susie Chang to help her. Susie confided recently that she and her boyfriend were active adherents to the nudist lifestyle; unzipping her boss's Armani dress should hardly offend her, but the doctor felt it might be unprofessional and so she struggled on. Eventually sweaty and in tears she broke down and called not Jane, but Angela. She had to walk up to the café, where she discreetly let the older woman ease down her zipper and then quickly covered her bare back with a lab coat for her trip back to the basement. It was worth preserving her coveted weekend.

She had, in fact, prepared two very different outfits for this day. Because Jane had agreed to keep their plans, Maura was able to wear her happy outfit, the brightly colored garment with the persnickity zipper and a pair of wedge sandals by Balenciaga in a color called "rope."

Her alternate outfit, the one she would have worn if Jane cancelled on her, was a dark green Lanvin pencil skirt with plain black pumps and a dolman-sleeve blouse. Though both outfits were perfectly acceptable for work, rendering the M.E. overdressed as usual, the emotional weight she had assigned to each was quite different.

The difficult garment hung neatly on a velveteen hanger as Maura, now clad in black surgical scrubs, slipped into a pair of Crocs and tied her long hair back with a clip. She once again unzipped the black plastic body transport bag, this time all the way, and began the meticulous process of examining every visible part of the young woman's corpse before carefully undressing her, washing her wounds, and finally opening her up with saw and scalpel. Maura worked slowly and with reverence, treating her patient with the same tenderness and care that she would have had she been alive.

When she was finished, she washed and changed into jeans and a heather grey cashmere sweater and sat behind her desk daydreaming about the coming weekend. She went over in her mind all the things that had to be done to open the house for the summer; she had called to have the electricity turned on and Mrs. Knutsen assured her that she had cleaned the cottage, "From top mast to keel," and that she had changed all the linens and stockpiled firewood.

_Cable! _Although Maura had cellular wifi for her tablet, she knew Jane would want to watch her sports shows on the big 60" in the living room. She quickly dialed the number and paid a hefty surcharge to ensure the satellite dish on her roof would be turned on and receiving signals by that evening. She allowed herself a moment to imagine sitting next to her detective on the white sofa with the nautical print pillows. Jane would whoop and cheer if her teams were winning or boo and hiss if they fell behind. Maura took great pleasure in seeing her beloved so happily engaged. She studied the history and statistical records of all of Jane's favorite teams and could spit out rapid-fire data if asked.

"Hey Maur, how many goals did Marchand score last season?"

"18, Jane, and 18 assists."

"Maur, what's Brady's career yardage to date?"

"44,806."

And sometimes she'd ask something more obscure, just to check on the doctor.

"Maura, what was the Sox win/lose record in 1977?"

"97-64, Jane."

She knew it all, had lovingly learned all she could about the things that were important to Jane. Granted, with her eidetic memory, it was an easier task than for most people.

She hummed happily to herself, a very off-key rendition of Gershwin's _I got Rhythm _as she entered the walk-in body refrigerator where she had stowed the previous evening's purchases.

She had made a special trip to an authentic _salumeria _in the very Italian North End intending to pick up a few items, feeling guilty that Jane would miss her mother's traditional Italian dinner on Sunday afternoon. She had, in fact, purchased enough cheese and meats to feed the entire Rizzoli clan as well as the Homicide Unit twice over. The men behind the counter were delighted by the beautiful, well-dressed doctor who spoke a perfect, fluent Italian, and so they sliced delicacy after delicacy and passed it to her.

"_Si prega, signora, provi questo_."

And she did, trying a bite of everything they offered and then buying it.

"_Delizioso! Squisito!_" She said again and again.

"_Prendo anche mezzo kilo di questo_."

The very happy proprietor had to hang a closed sign on the shop door so that he and his two assistants could carry the bounty to the doctor's waiting Prius.

"_Arrivederci, signora_." They waved from the curb as she drove off.

"_Torni presto_."

Now she had four large brown paper bags filled with the bounty of Italy: soppressata from Calabria, prosciutto di Parma, bresaola from Lombardy, sliced so thin she could see through it, Genoa salami studded with sweet fat, glistening coppa di testa, dry aged asiago from Veneto, parmigiano, yellow as ear wax, locatelli di Lazio and Sicilian pecorino pepato. To complement the food, she purchased a case each of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo and Nero d'Avola.

She began dividing the food, intending to give _una busta da asporto _to Frost, Korsak, and Angela, lest it go to waste. She and Jane could never put a dent in this, even if they did nothing but eat from Friday night until Monday.

Maura glanced down at her platinum Tag Heuer: Less than one hour to go.

They would make a quick stop at Jane's apartment to pick up Jo Friday and another at the beer distributor, and they would be on their way.

As her last official act of the day, she ran Susie's mass spectrometry analysis up to the homicide bullpen. The Senior Criminologist had run her results against a database of commonly available household cleaning agents and had come up with no matches. However, when she ran the data against commercial-strength products, she had an immediate hit with All Global Janitorial Supplies and a product called "Protein B-Gone." She relayed the information to Detective Sergeant Korsak, who would be spending his holiday weekend phoning every cleaning service, school, hospital, and prison in the Greater Boston area to see if their custodial staff had access to the product.

"I'm sure you will find the needle in the hat pins, Vince, and your efforts this weekend could very well break the case." She smiled at the puzzled detective.

"Well, I guess I'd better get started." Korsak muttered glumly, picking up his phone.

His mood immediately improved when the doctor handed over a large paper sack filled with Italian delicacies.

"You have to keep your strength up as you will be doing the work of three people this weekend." she said.

"Thanks, doc." He replied, practically beaming. "You really are the best."

_This one's a keeper, Janie. Get your head out of your ass, already_. Vince Korsak thought to himself as he folded a glossy slice of prosciutto into his mouth and washed it down with a Strawberry YooHoo.

* * *

Jane and Frost spent the morning attending the double funeral for Deniece and Prescott Smoot at the Charles Street AME Church. There was a line wrapped around the block and half way down Warren Street to enter the historic fieldstone building when they arrived. They waited patiently for half an hour before Jane pulled out her shield, grabbed her reluctant partner by the arm and cut to the front of the line. They managed to squeeze in against the wall midway down from the glass entrance doors. Everyone on the line, or so it seemed, pushed their way into the building behind them until there were a hundred souls between the detectives and the exit. Like it or not, they were staying for the duration of the service.

"I told you to wait, Jane. These things can go on for hours." Frost loosened his tie and tried vainly to remove his jacket, an impossibility in the crush of people.

Jane hated to be wrong, so she kept quiet despite her discomfort at the growing heat and the strange people pressed up against her. She closed her eyes and imagined she was sitting on the wrap-around porch of Maura's seaside cottage, her bare feet resting on the whitewashed railing, an ice-cold beer in her hand and the smell of the Atlantic in her nose. Conjuring the smell of the ocean was especially difficult since someone in her vicinity was extremely flatulent.

The service was long; it seemed to Jane that everyone in the church, save Frost and herself, got up to eulogize the deceased. They all told variations of the same sad tale. Deniece Smoot was one of the good ones; a strict mother who worked all day at a terrible job: cleaning up other people's tragedies for a biohazard recovery company and most nights cleaning office buildings.

She put her boys through private elementary and high school, and both had been accepted to one of the top universities in the country. She encouraged her boys to be well-rounded citizens. Both were avid swimmers and accomplished musicians; Prior had played the trumpet, Prescott the clarinet.

Jane felt a tear slip down her cheek a few times, she hoped it mingled with and became indistinguishable from the sweat which flowed freely from her temples. Tender-hearted Frost wept openly and unashamedly through the service.

They both sucked in big lungfulls of fresh air as they exited the stifling church nearly three hours later.

"I wish I had a wife and kids to go home to and hug." Frost said as they walked back to their unmarked.

"Yeah, me too." Jane replied, unaware of her Freudian slip until a half minute later. Frost, however, was not the kind of man to comment on it and Jane loved him for it.

"Hey, Frosty, whatcha got planned for the weekend?"

"I'm flying down to Annapolis. Going to spend some time with mama-san. You're going away with the doc, huh?"

"Yup." Jane unlocked the door for her partner and walked around to the driver's side.

"Korsak's on his own for three days."

Frost smiled. "Imagine if the old bear clears both boards while we're gone?"

"As much as I want to get these scumbags, I hope that doesn't happen. We'll never hear the end of it."


	17. Chapter 17

"Is that all you're bringing? For the entire weekend?" The doctor's eyes were wide with astonishment.

"Yeah. A couple of pairs of underwear, a clean bra, bathing suit, some shorts and a nice outfit in case we go to one of your fancy-pants bistros to suck oysters and swill champagne."

"You have a nice outfit in that bag?"

"It will be fine, Maura, you worry about your 500 bags and I'll worry about my one."

Jane glanced over her shoulder where the entire cargo area of the large SUV was crammed with suitcases, boxes, coolers, and grocery bags. The roof rack was also loaded down with boxes and a large yellow kayak, criss-crossed with red bungee cords.

"Didn't you pack a bag for Jo?" The doctor asked, pulling away from the curb outside of Jane's building.

"She's a dog. What does she need? She'll eat scraps from our dinner and shit on the beach. End of story. What's with the kayak, Maur?"

"Oh. I ordered it online. I thought we may want to paddle around a bit, maybe cross to Chappaquiddick Island and visit the Mytoi Gardens."

Jane groaned. "Isn't there a bridge or must we do everything the hard way?"

"Yes, of course. The Dike Bridge."

Jane groaned again. Maura blushed, realizing the implications of the name. She cleared her throat and continued. "It's the bridge that Ted Kennedy drove off of in 1969, killing Mary Jo Kopechne."

"Hmm. I wouldn't mind seeing that." Jane admitted. "I'm a sucker for a good crime scene."

"As am I." Maura agreed. "I've always felt that the tragedy at Chappaquiddick was the defining moment of Senator Kennedy's life. The guilt he carried from that day on made him the tireless advocate for women's rights that he was until the day he died."

"Agreed." Jane mumbled, not really having listened to her friend's last discourse. Instead she imagined a postcard emblazoned with "Greetings from Chappaquiddick" and below it "Two dykes on Dike Bridge" above a picture of her and Maura grinning into the camera. She shook her head and quickly changed the subject.

"You should drive this every day, Maur." Jane stretched her legs out in front of her and reclined her seat back to a near horizontal position. "It's so much more comfortable than that lame little toy you usually drive."

The doctor furrowed her brows. "It wouldn't be very ecologically conscious for one person to commute to work every day in an SUV with a V8 engine."

Jane half shrugged, half burrowed herself deeper into the custom leather upholstery. "Whatever. It doesn't really matter in the end, does it?"

"Of course it does. My Prius gets 51 miles to the gallon of gasoline, this behemoth gets 13. Every time I choose to drive the Prius over this, I am saving the Earth's precious fossil fuels by a 392% margin, not to mention the reduced emission of carbon gasses and the damage they do to the ozone layer."

Jane was going to let it go, let her friend feel good about her green activism; it said much about the woman who could afford to drive a Lamborghini, but chose to drive a dinky cramped Toyota.

But Jane couldn't bear to lose, be it a disagreement with a colleague, an argument with a friend or even a board game. As a child, she refused to let her younger brothers ever win at Hungry Hungry Hippos or Candyland, despite their tears and Angela's insistence that she be a big girl and give them a chance. She pressed the power recline button and was once again sitting erect, warming to the debate.

"Maur, this vehicle was made in the good old US of A. Your greenpeace mobile was made in Japan."

She paused to let the implications sink in, but the doctor didn't seem to be on her wavelength.

"Jane, I hardly think that patriotism trumps ecological husbandry of the Earth's resources. We are all citizens of this planet."

Jane's smiled smugly, about to slip the proverbial ace out of her sleeve. "No, Maura. Your Prius was built in Japan and had to travel across the Pacific on a cargo ship and then across the entire continent on one of those precariously perched, car-carrying truck things. I think any fossil fuel you're saving is a drop in the bucket compared to that. You're the one who wouldn't go on the BPD Cruise to Nowhere because such a big ship burned like a gallon of fuel for every 50 feet it traveled."

The doctor's face had gone pale and she silently bit her lower lip. After a moment she blurted, "I've done the calculations and you're right, Jane. I am deluding myself. I'm a big, fat American fuel hog."

Jane shifted her hips in her seat and flapped her arms, doing a little chair dance of victory. She looked over at the M.E. who was still pouting and looking out over the traffic jammed highway through tearing eyes.

"Oh, Maura. Don't cry." Jane's victory suddenly seemed like a cruelty, not worth the collateral damage it did to the gentle doctor. She instinctively placed her hand on her friend's knee and rubbed in what she hoped was a soothing manner. "You're the least hoggish person I know, the most generous, the most caring."

Maura sniffled, but her pout had retreated and her eyes were no longer watering. Jane stopped rubbing the denim-clad knee, but allowed her hand to remain resting on the M.E.'s thigh.

"Hey, this is going to be an entirely happy weekend, okay? No crying, no arguing. I am going to be as agreeable as Jo Friday. C'mon, let's listen to some music. You can choose. What do you have on your ipod?"

"I've been listening to mostly Russian opera and some Gershwin." Maura admitted.

"Didn't you listen to anything normal back in high school?"

The doctor thought for a moment. "I used to like The Smiths; their ennui with societal norms as well as Morrissey's distinctive voice as an outsider spoke to my own insecurities."

"Mope city." Jane muttered.

"You can play what you like, Jane. I'd be happy to hear the Led Zepplins; I know they're your favorite."

"Led Zeppelin, Maur."

Jane immediately regretted correcting her friend, but Maura didn't seem to notice. She was smiling now, one deep dimple just visible from Jane's angle. Jane's hand had remained on her thigh for a full seven minutes now and she seemed to have no notion of moving it. She merely sat back in her seat with her left hand resting casually in her friend's lap. Maura's heart thrummed with happiness. She gently and with great trepidation removed her right hand from the steering wheel and rested it on top of Jane's. Jane turned to her and smiled, lacing their fingers together.

They drove the rest of the way to Wood's Hole holding hands and caught the 8:30 ferry across the Sound.

* * *

It was full dark when their ferry docked at Oak Bluffs. Once they drove past the limits of the small town, the night became black velvet and the doctor drove slowly and cautiously down unmarked, unlit roads, glad that she had the truck's navigation system to guide her. Though she may have been a genius, Dr. Isles had a terrible sense of direction and even worse night vision.

Jane, uncharacteristically, did not complain about their slow progress. She opened her window and breathed in the cool, clean air tinged with sea salt, bayberry and pitch pine. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees since they left Boston and Jane anticipated a staggeringly good night's sleep, lulled by the waves crashing on the beach and the nip of the cold north Atlantic traveling on the breeze.

Mrs. Knutsen had the forethought to leave a light burning on the porch, a beacon as Maura navigated the long, sandy driveway that snaked through sagebrush and sea grass up to the large wood-shingled cottage with the wrap-around porch. As soon as the truck stopped, the detective and her dog bounded out, both eager to relieve the pressure in their bladders.

"C'mon, Maur, I gotta pee." Jane hopped from leg to leg, her gym bag banging against her hip.

The doctor seemed to be dawdling by the truck's lift gate. "Don't let Jo go too far, Jane. We won't want to spend the night beating down the scrub brush looking for her. I'd hate to step on a snake."

"Ewww." The detective shuddered. "You never told me that there are snakes out here."

"There used to be a lot more. When I was a child they were all over the island. I refused to go out at night and my father would have to carry me from the car after sundown."

"I'm surprised you didn't play with them, Maur. You like reptiles and turtles and stuff."

"I'm irrationally terrified of snakes, Jane. It must be the psychological phallic symbolism. Then again, I've never been afraid of a penis. Maybe it's something else." She shrugged in the darkness. "There are no poisonous snakes on the island, but a black racer can give a nasty bite."

Jane momentarily forgot her need to urinate and walked to the furthest edge of the lighted circle emanating from the porch. "Jo! Jo Friday! Good girl, come to mommy!"

There was a rustling in the grass and the little yorkie emerged trotting on her short legs. Jane snatched her up. "You are not leaving my side, young lady." She vowed to McGyver some sort of dog rope and harness tomorrow to keep the little dog tethered to her and out of the path of snakes. She would never have admitted it, but Jane would rather face a gang-banger with a knife than a snake, even a non-poisonous one.

With her dog safe, Jane's bladder began to throb again. "Maura! If you don't open this door, I am going to piss myself and unlike you, I don't have 48 different outfits to change into."

"The passcode is my birthday, Jane."

Jane growled as she punched in the digits. "Why couldn't you say that 5 minutes ago?" She muttered. "That's a bad choice, Maur. You should pick something random or not easily guessed."

"Yes, Detective Rizzoli."

Once she had relieved herself, Jane's mood greatly improved. She bounded up the stairs to stow her bag before returning to help with the unloading of the truck. At the top of the stairs she hesitated. Whenever she had stayed here in the past, she always bunked down with Maura in the big master bedroom with the captain's bed and the balcony that overlooked the ocean. Now she was unsure if she should maybe choose one of the smaller guest rooms down the hall. If she did that, would she hurt the doctor's feelings? Jo Friday decided for her, scrabbling down the hallway, her tiny nails clicking on the old wood floor she headed straight for Maura's room and bounded up into the downy white comforter. Jane followed, tossing her gym bag next to her already snoring pet.

* * *

Jane leaned back in her seat and let out a tremendous belch. "Geez, Maur, that was some sandwich you made me. What would be the Italian version of a Dagwood?"

Maura grinned. "How about a Giovanni?"

They both laughed. "Maur, why did you want to sleep with him?"

"I didn't sleep with him, Jane."

"I know, but you said you wanted to and you have slept with other guys."

The doctor sighed. How would she explain this to Jane without freaking her out, scaring her away? Part of the answer was to make Jane jealous, but she couldn't say that. She struggled for a moment to collect her thoughts, to find the exact phrasing that straddled the line between the absolute truth and the truth that Jane could handle.

"I… I..." She began, anxiously rubbing her hands.

"You didn't know you were gay?" Jane cut her off.

"I knew, Jane. I think I've always known on some level." She sat opposite Jane at the old, scarred wood table in the kitchen and folded her nervous hands. There was so much to say, but she knew Jane wanted a quick answer so that she could file it away and move on.

"You saw the photo I keep in my armoire. You saw how I was back then…."

"Bullshit! Even nerds get laid, Maura. They get laid by other nerds."

Jane cut her off for the second time. She was beginning to feel like a person of interest in a murder investigation, sweating in the closed little interview room behind the homicide bullpen, growing smaller under the hot white lights and dark burning eyes of the detective.

"Jane, I assure you I wasn't getting laid by anyone back then. I didn't have the social skills to make a friend, forget about attracting a sex partner."

"And after? Why did you sleep with Dennis and Slucky and that yoga douchebag?'

Maura sighed. "Sex is sex, Jane. Loneliness, need, I don't know. Men are easier for me because… because I... I know I can never love them."

That was a large part of the truth and Maura hoped that it would be enough for her friend, but Jane continued to look at her with the same unreadable dead face she gave to her suspects, waiting patiently for them to fill the silence with a confession. Maura knew that Jane could not handle what was in her heart, so she looked away, fidgeted with her wine glass, lifted it and took a large sip.

"Jane, my emotional attraction has always been to women, my tender feelings, romantic feelings. I don't know what else to say. I feel like I'm being given the third dungaree."

Jane's facade broke, first two dimples appeared and then her chin began to quiver. She finally snorted and gasped, the laughter rolling out of her mouth and nose along with her last mouthful of beer.

"Degree, Maura. It's the third degree. I don't think I've ever heard anyone use the word _dungaree _other than my long-dead grandmother."

"I've never been very good with idiomatic phrases."

"You think?" Jane shook her head and finished off her beer.

"I'm going to take a shower and hit the hay, which is an idiotic phrase that means to go to bed."

"Idiomatic, Jane."

"That's what I said. Oh, I need some pajamas. I didn't bring any."

The doctor smirked. "I told you that you under packed. Did you bring a toothbrush? Floss? Deodorant?"

"No, no and no." Jane answered, halfway up the stairs.

"Third drawer in the bureau opposite the bed, in the medicine cabinet and under the bathroom sink."

"Thanks, Mom." Jane called from above her.

Taking care of Jane didn't make Maura feel like a mother, it made her feel like a girlfriend, a partner, a lover. She would gladly do anything to make the detective's life easier, to make her comfortable, happy and above all certain that she was loved and had a place in this world because that's how Jane made her feel.

Jane stood under tepid spray in the antique claw-footed tub, thinking about plumbing. The water pressure here sucked and there was never enough hot water, a point brought home when Maura turned on the kitchen tap to rinse their dinner plates and Jane howled like a skinned wolf, skittering to the far side of the tub to avoid the icy droplets.

"Sorry." The doctor shouted, quickly turning off the tap.

The detective vowed to put her skills to use this summer, installing a new hot-water heater and updating the lines to the shower. She wasn't the eldest child of Frank Rizzoli, Master Plumber, for nothing. She made a mental list of the tools she would need to bring with her during her next trip. She would also have to see if there was a plumbing supply store on the island or if she would need to have the copper piping and boiler unit sent over by cargo ferry. She smiled to herself, it would be her thank you to Maura for taking such good care of her and being her best friend. She'd come here on the sneak and surprise her friend with a steamy, hot bath scented with those fancy oils that she like so much.

Her conversation with Maura had put her mind at ease. Her friend was _hypothetically _gay. Jane could deal with that. She could even admit to herself that she too was probably hypothetically gay. That was very different from being _actively _gay, from rolling around in bed with another woman and doing things to her, or worse, for everyone to know that she did those things.

But Angela said that Maura had female overnight guests. Jane frowned. Angela was a shit-stirrer. Jane put it out of her mind.

She began to sing, her raspy alto floating down the stairs to the doctor, sipping her wine in front of the fireplace.

_Burn down the disco. Hang the blessed DJ cause the music that they constantly play says nothing to me about my life_.

_The Smiths! _Maura smiled to herself.


	18. Chapter 18

Jane awoke to the smell of frying bacon and strong coffee mingling with the tang of salt air. She breathed deeply and sank back into the clean white softness of Maura's bed. She had slept the sleep of the innocent; if she had dreamed she didn't remember and she felt refreshed but lazy. The tempting aromas emanating from downstairs soon won out over her self-indulgent lethargy. She followed the scent into the kitchen where the doctor was humming to herself as she stirred fresh blueberries into a thick batter.

"Pancakes?" Jane poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning to you too, Jane. Oh, thank you, Jane, I slept well. And you?"

"Was that sarcasm, Dr. Isles? You're getting good at it."

Maura beamed, finally raising her eyes from her bowl and whisk. She looked the detective up and down and giggled.

"What? Do I have a booger?" Jane swiped at her nose.

"No. You look adorable in my pajamas."

Jane looked down where six inches of ankle and forearm were jutting out of the black silk pants and sleeves.

"I look like a scarecrow." She said.

"No, you look beautiful, long and lean and sleep tousled." Maura blushed, not intending to have said so much.

"But if you prefer, I think I can dig up something of my father's for you to wear tonight. It may fit you better."

"Nah." Jane waved her hand dismissively. "They wouldn't be as soft as these."

_Or smell like your perfume_.

She dropped into a chair at the butcher block kitchen table, sipping at her coffee and watching the doctor work.

"Shall I make you bunny pancakes, Jane?"

Maura was positively exuberant this morning and her bright mood was infectious; the detective found herself grinning into her coffee mug, which she noticed bore the imprint of a sailing ship, masts aloft.

"No, thanks. I'm a big girl. Uh, Maur...is this the Mayflower on your mug?"

Her friend lifted her own coffee cup and peered at the etching.

"Of course not, Jane. This vessel is clearly not of the same period or provenance. This is without doubt an American whaling ship, circa 1850. Look at the narrow hull, the elongated prow..."

"Whatever, Captain Ahab." Jane dead panned. "Whatcha got planned for us today?"

"Well, we could go whale watching. There's a tour that leaves at noon and 3:00 out of Edgartown."

"Nah. Don't want to spend the day with a bunch of tourists and ankle biters. What else?"

The doctor bit her lower lip thoughtfully. "Let's go to the Dike, um, the bridge at Chappaquiddick. We both wanted to see where Senator Kennedy drove into the water. Then there is a lovely spot that I used to go to with my parents. The water will be too cold to swim now, but it is just beautiful, Jane. The beach is overhung by cliffs and the waves echo like thunder when they break. There's a lighthouse we could hike to and we could have lunch in Aquinnah."

The doctor's face grew more animated with each event she named, her dimples deeper and eyes brighter. Jane may even have agreed to get into the damn kayak not to upset her.

"Okay, Maur. That sounds perfect. Now you sit down and let me finish the pancakes."

Ten minutes later Jane placed a plate in front of her friend.

"Oh, is that a lobster? Very festive, Jane. Very New England."

"It was supposed to be a tortoise." Jane mumbled.

Maura squinted, tilting her head to the side. "Of course, Jane. I see it now."

* * *

Maura pulled off of the paved black top onto a packed sand lane that disappeared into green shrub oak and beach heather. The big truck lurched forward gently as the transmission switched over into four wheel drive and she unnecessarily tightened her grip on the steering wheel. The smell of the sea grew stronger and the shrieks of sea birds louder.

"Maur, close the moon roof before they shit on us." Jane instinctively covered her head as the shadow of a large grey gull passed overhead.

"Isn't that lucky, Jane, to be peppered with bird poo?"

"Luckier than being peppered by gunfire, I suppose, but a bird that big probably craps like Jo Friday. I wouldn't want that in my hair."

The doctor nodded and hit a button on her door. Immediately a smoked glass panel slid over the opening in the roof. No sooner had it clicked into place then a white splat hit the glass.

"Yes!" Jane pumped her fist. "That's what I call lucky."

Maura slowed the car and pulled off into a clearing at the edge of a brackish bottomland. They sat in silence for a moment both looking out to where the reeds and swamp grass gave way to open running water. A young woman in high yellow waders worked the shallows below them, an old wood-handled clam rake in her hands.

"So..." Jane dragged out her question. "Why did we stop?"

"We're here, Jane." Maura pointed out her window to a wooden boardwalk that ran at an angle to the sandy lane they had traveled. Jane opened her door and walked the ten yards unto the structure. Maura joined her and they stood together on the planking midway over the channel gazing at the dark water in silence.

"So, where did it happen?" Jane asked. "I thought there would be a monument or something."

Maura walked a few feet and pointed at the rip-rapped shore off of the far end of the bridge.

"Senator Kennedy's Oldsmobile was pulled from the water over there. This isn't the original bridge; it's been completely rebuilt. But I've seen the original; it was smaller with no railings. You've seen how dark it is here at night, it would be very easy to miss a turn and wind up in the water."

"That's not the point, Maura. He had an accident, fine, but he saved his own fat ass and left her to drown."

"Actually, Jane, new research indicates that he may not have been driving or even in the car at all. There was a foot difference in height between Kennedy and Kopechne and the driver's seat was adjusted for a small person..."

Jane cut her off. "Again, who caused the accident is not important. He left that woman to die."

"There's a theory that he may not have been in the car at all, that they planned to rendezvous at the hotel to avoid the press and she left the party alone driving his car."

"And you buy this theory, Maur?

"It's possible. As Chief M.E., I've pulled the autopsy records and scene photos. I've gone through the Senator's conflicting testimonies and...I don't know."

"Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe we could look over the files together? It could be a summer project, a hobby of sorts. Wouldn't it be something if we could rewrite history? Exonerate, even if only posthumously, a man who may have suffered his entire adult life for a crime he didn't commit?"

"Spend our precious vacation time looking into something that happened before either of us was born, at a crime scene that has been completely rebuilt and everyone who was around that night is either six feet under or shitting in an adult diaper in a nursing home. Is that what your asking, Maura?"

"I thought it might be fun. Will you at least take a look at the files?" The doctor looked up at her, a smile barely pulling at the sides of her lips.

"Yeah. Fine." Jane muttered grumpily.

"I'm going to snap a picture for Korsak; he's the only one alive long enough to actually remember when this happened. Smile, Maur."

Jane wrapped her arm around the smaller woman and pulled her close, snapping the photo with her other hand.

_Two dykes on Dike Bridge_.

"Text a copy to Barrold as well; he was a history major in college."

Jane grunted, but added Frost to the text.

They were walking back to the car when Jane's phone buzzed.

"Korsak traced your commercial cleaner back to three firms who specialize in crime scene clean up. He's going to have a list of employees by the end of the weekend. Guess that will be first order of business next week. That and Prudence Rigsdale."

Jane frowned into the sea breeze, her dark hair blowing crazily around her face and shoulders. She watched the young woman, a sturdy blond, pull at the sand with her rake, shake the metal tines free of mud until the mollusks rattled and drop them in an ice chest resting on the sand. Sometimes she wished she had chosen a different career, something more physically but less emotionally exhausting. Pulling sustenance from the sea seemed like an easier life in that respect.

"No more business, Jane. Only relaxation this weekend." Maura hesitated a moment and then slipped her arm through Jane's and led her back to the car.

"What's next on our agenda?" The detective allowed herself to be led.

"We're going to the other end of the island to my favorite beach and lighthouse."

"What's it called, Maur?"

"Gay Head."

Jane groaned and covered her face. "Of course it is."

"I don't make up the names, Jane. That's really what it is called."

"I know, Maur."

_The universe is just sending me a message_.

* * *

The Gay Head Lighthouse appeared miles before they reached it, the highest point on the highest part of the island. It loomed, a red sentinel, above the rolling green fields surrounding it. The afternoon sun catching the big lens atop the structure beamed its guiding beacon across the meadow and Maura imagined that she and Jane were two women adrift in a small red boat floating on a sea of stargrass and thistle.

"Is there a tour or a museum?"

"Both." The doctor grinned, loving nothing more than an opportunity to learn, especially with Jane along. The detective's instinct was to mock, but she had a curious mind and often enjoyed her friend's "Nerd excursions" as much as Maura did.

Jane groaned, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I bet you know just as much about this place as the tour guide, so how about we climb up and you can give me the highlights and skip the tour."

The light keeper was a small friendly man with a jarring bouncy walk as if an excess of energy propelled him vertically for every horizontal step he took.

"Neurological tic." Maura whispered. "He may have Tourette's."

"Shhhhhush, Maura, you whisper loudly."

Jane stepped forward, intent on putting off the little man who looked so happy to have company, even for a few minutes, at his isolated outpost.

"The Vineyard has the highest concentration of lighthouses in the entire US. There are fffffffffff..."

His face grew red and all the muscles in his jaw bunched. He screwed his eyes shut in an obvious effort to remain in control of his voice.

"Five." He finally spit out, sweating with the effort.

"Yes." Maura replied. " East Chop, West Chop, Cape Poge, Edgartown and of course, Gay Head. This is the youngest, first lit in 1856 when the Vineyard Sound was one of the busiest waterways in the country. It's also the only one built of red brick; all the others are white."

The light keeper nodded, his head bobbing up and down in the cowl neck of his fisherman's sweater.

"It's one of the most endangered historic places in the country. Erosion is so bad that if it is not moved in the next two years it will tttttttttttt..."

He twitched and balled his fists, biting his lip so hard he drew blood.

"Tumble into the sea." He finally sputtered, gasping for air, his face red as much with shame as with effort.

Maura placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Let me look at that lip. It's okay. I'm a doctor."

She peered at his mouth, turning his face to the light and continued speaking to him in a soft voice.

"Have you tried Fluphenazine?"

"Yes."

"Haloperidal?"

"Yes. That was my first prescription."

"Tenex?"

"Yes, terrible side effects."

"Sarafem?"

"I've tried them all. I can't function at my job here when I'm on meds."

Maura nodded, releasing her hold on his chin.

"You don't need stitches, but maybe put some ice on that lip to keep the swelling down."

He nodded and looked up at her through surprisingly long eyelashes, clearly smitten. She reached into her bag and withdrew her check book.

"I would be glad to make a contribution to save the lighthouse."

"Thank you. The suggested contribution is $5."

Jane reached into her jean pocket and pulled out 2 crumpled $10 bills. She passed them over with a mumbled. "Keep the change, buddy."

Maura signed her name and passed over a folded check.

"My friend and I just want to take a quick look upstairs. The view is spectacular."

The light keeper didn't respond, he was frozen in place staring in stunned silence at the opened check in his hand.

Jane stayed behind for a moment as the M.E. began climbing the circular staircase to the observation deck. She fumbled in all of her pockets, finally coming up with a $20 and a damp $50 which she passed over to the light keeper. She had been planning to take Maura to a late lunch, but the doctor would just have to pay like she usually did.

Jane found Maura leaning on the wrought iron railing running around the narrow walkway. She was looking out across the choppy grey water to the beach where they had walked earlier. The cliffs were stunning from up here; the clay and chalk that Maura had pointed out from below were lit by the late afternoon sun and glowed orange and peach, pink and adobe, like the Grand Canyon in miniature only topped by a lush carpet of green grass and wildflower instead of sand and rock.

She was so absorbed by the view that she didn't immediately notice her friend was weeping, her shoulders trembling as she took in shaky breaths of air.

"Maura, are you all right?"

A sniffle and nod in response.

She tentatively moved closer and leaned on the railing next to her so their shoulders were touching. She looked down nervously at her own hands which had ached dully since arriving on the island, sea air was not a balm to old wounds. Maura, ever observant, noticed her flexing her fingers and turned to her.

"Jane, do your hands hurt?"

"A little. It's the dampness."

Maura took Jane's hands in her own and began rubbing, first gently around each finger joint, then more forcefully working her way down the flexor tendons and onto the pale pink scar tissue at the palm's center.

"Is that better?" She looked up into Jane's face and one tear that had been clinging to her eyelash dropped and rolled down her face.

"Yes, much." Jane pulled her hand away and rested it on the doctor's damp cheek. "Why are you crying?"

_Because I'm so lonely, Jane. So lonely down into my bones. Just like that poor man downstairs who didn't stutter or twitch the entire time I was touching him. Please love me, Jane. Please love me. _

She pulled away although every molecule in her body craved Jane's touch.

"When I was a child, it was my dream to be the Gay Head light keeper. I imagined reading all day and night, alone in my round bedroom with only the sound of the seagulls and waves for company. Ships full of people would see my light in the distance, through the darkest nights, storms and fog. They'd know that there was someone watching over them, silently, but with care, not unlike what I do now for the dead."

She shook her head and smiled at Jane, hoping to lighten the mood. Jane's eyes were glassy with tears. She gripped the doctor by her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes.

"Maura, there is a place for you in this world and it is not in a lighthouse at the ass end of nowhere or surrounded only by the dead for company. You belong. People love you... I love you."

She continued to look directly into her friend's eyes, willing each word to take root and bloom. Maura looked back, sending all of her love through her gaze. Jane's dark eyes, burning with vehemence began to soften. The detective once again reached for her cheek and gently tilted up her chin. Maura's heart thudded at double time; she was certain Jane was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes as Jane's face moved closer leaning down for the kiss.

When the kiss came it was firm yet gentle, landing just below the hairline above Maura's left eye. Jane let her lips linger a moment at the M.E.'s temple, inhaling the clean scent of Maura's hair and scalp, then pulled herself away entirely.

"You owe me a lobster roll, Dr. Isles. My stomach is growling louder than the Bay of Menemsha."

"Bight, Jane. It's the Bight of Menemsha. The angle of the opening is less than 25 degrees from edge to edge, making it a Bight and not a Bay. Also, I think it was you who promised me a lobster roll."

"Can't do it, Maur. I gave all my cash to the lighthouse guy. I hope he gets to keep this place."

Maura smiled and pulled Jane in for one last hug before heading down the narrow stairs.

* * *

Jane sprawled across the sofa, one leg hanging over the back, the other dangling over the furthest armrest. An empty Corona bottle rested on the floor next to her. She really wanted another but was too lazy to get up and walk into the kitchen. Instead she picked up the empty and brought it to her mouth again and again in hope that either the beer gods would magically replenish it or Maura would notice and bring her another. Maura always cut a neat, triangular lime wedge and popped it into the top of her Corona bottle or a perfectly circular disc of orange, like a happy sun, for her Blue Moon. Jane didn't bother with the fruit when serving herself which was what she would have to do now. She groaned, stretched and rose, plodding into the kitchen on bare feet.

Maura was chopping vegetables and half singing, half humming along to something dark and brooding coming out of her stereo, though she looked perfectly cheerful. Jane stood in the doorway watching her.

"Whatcha listening to, Maur?"

"Khovanshchina." The doctor smiled broadly and kept chopping.

"What language is that, Klingon?" Jane crossed the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

"Russian. Marfa and Andrei are going to burn themselves alive right now."

Maura seemed delighted by this.

"Ain't love grand." Jane dead panned.

"I wouldn't necessarily characterize this as a love story. Marfa is more of an allegorical representation of Old Russia before the reforms of Peter the Great than a real woman in love."

"O...kay. I will be watching the Scooby Doo marathon in the living room. If you grow tired of Peter roasting Marcia and her alligator, you can join me."

On impulse she crossed the room and gave Maura a quick kiss on top of the head which elicited a smile and blush.

"Dinner in five minutes, okay?"

"What are we having?"

"Just a small salad."

Jane frowned. "Not only is it just a salad for dinner, but it's a small one. Jo Friday's eating better than me tonight."

She glanced longingly at the dog bowl which was filled with neatly cut pieces of mortadella and salami.

"Jane, you ate three lobster rolls for lunch and an entire bag of potato chips. Do you remember your first time here when you insisted on eating lobster for breakfast, lunch and dinner?"

"Sure do. The Lobster Eggs Benedict was especially good, but I had a little indigestion that night."

Maura looked stunned. "A little indigestion? You woke me at 3:00 AM to ask if it was possible that your liver had liquified and was shooting out of your..."

"Yeah, yeah. But I only had lobster once today, so my liver should be fine."

"Salad, Jane. No negotiating."

The doctor narrowed her eyes, trying her best to look stern and failing miserably in her frilly yellow apron.

Jane laughed deep in her throat and gave her friend another quick kiss, this time on her ear before heading back into the living room.

"Can we eat in front of the TV, Maur? This is a really good episode."

"Which one?"

"Scooby Doo and the Wax Phantom."

"That first aired on Halloween in 1970. It is a classic, Jane."

"How do you do that?" Jane muttered. "Freakin' genius."

Maura joined Jane on the sofa carefully balancing two plates, two glasses and a bottle of Gewürztraminer in her hands. Jane scooted over to make room, knocking an embroidered pillow to the floor. She picked it up and ran her fingers over the careful stitches.

"Isn't this our lighthouse, Maur?"

_Our lighthouse. _Maura's stomach tingled at the thought.

"Yes. _Buon occhio_, Jane."

"Did Constance make this?"

Maura laughed, a silver tinkling sound.

"Can you imagine my mother doing needlepoint?"

"No. I guess not."

Maura took the pillow and gazed at it for a moment before fluffing it and placing it behind her.

"My father made that, freehand. He was a master needlepointer. He always said that his mind worked best when his hands were busy. He made that tapestry in my upstairs hallway, the one depicting Tlamictiliztli."

"Oh, the Aztec thing with the human sacrifice."

"Zapotec, but yes."

"You miss him, yeah?"

"Yes. He was a kind and gentle man."

"He's not dead, Maur."

"He may as well be."

Jane didn't know what to say. Maura didn't like to talk about her father. Jane knew he was in some sort of sanitarium in Switzerland, but was vague on the details. Now she felt like an ass for ruining the doctor's carefree mood. She hoped Maura wouldn't cry again or she would feel compelled to hold her and kiss her. She'd been doing too much of that lately. It was becoming a habit, a habit that she enjoyed a bit too much. So instead of a hug, she nudged the smaller woman with a sharp elbow.

"C'mon, Maur. Pour me some of that Galoshes miner and let's get back to the show. It's a classic; you said so yourself."

"Did I miss the unmasking?" She asked.

"Nope. The gang is still looking for clues. They're like us, but with a cooler car."

Jane poked at an artichoke heart with her fork, sighed and ate it.

"You're Daphne and I'm Velma." Maura stated.

"No." Jane swallowed. "You're both Daphne and Velma, beautiful and brilliant. I'm definitely Fred, the charming and charismatic leader. Frost is Shaggy and Korsak is Scooby Doo since he will do anything for a snack."

"Fred? Really Jane? The only think you have in common with him is that you're both the tallest in the group and you always wear the same outfit to work."

"Funny, Maur! Hang around with me for another 20 years and maybe you'll actually develop a sense of humor."

"I'd like that, Jane." Maura answered quietly.

"Yeah, me too."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Hi Everyone, I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for spending your precious free time reading my story. I hope you are enjoying reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. All of your thoughtful or even impulsive comments and PMs are most appreciated. You let me know if I am on the right track or way off base (sorry about the mixed metaphor) and that is a huge help to me.**

**Rizzles will happen soon, I promise, definitely before the girls return to Boston. Speaking of which, I am now writing Chapter 25 and I can't seem to get them out of bed and back to the real world. I don't want to lose track of the 3 murders and the mystery plot while the lovebirds whisper sweet nothings and pleasure each other. **

**So... I have a few questions: How much sex is too much in a crime/romance story? I am not a smut writer, but I have written 4 scenes that are pretty graphic. Should I cut some? Tone it down? I don't want to offend anyone, especially since I have been told in a few PMs that some readers are way under 18. Do I need to change the entire rating of the story because they do the deed (a lot!) or is it proper etiquette to just say something like, Sex ahead: read at your own risk?**

**I'll shut up now. Thank you all again. This fandom is the best.**

* * *

Maura paced in the kitchen, absently emptying the dishwasher as she chatted with her mother on the phone, the iphone cradled between her ear and shoulder. Jo Friday followed her every step with her eyes, silently praying that a scrap or crumb would tumble from the doctor's hand onto the immaculate driftwood floorboards. Maura tip-toed out of the kitchen and looked up the stairway toward the master bedroom. Jane must still be sleeping, but she was endowed with preternatural hearing. She returned to the kitchen and continued her conversation in a low whisper.

"Mom, she kissed me three times yesterday, twice on the head and once on the ear."

"Really, Maura. You don't need to give me the hypomnema of your mating dance."

"Mother, I don't have another soul on this earth that I can discuss this with, so you will just have to listen. I never troubled you with teenage angst or unwanted pregnancy, so..."

She balled her soft hands into fists and searched for an apt ending to that sentence. "Suck it up, mother." She finished.

Constance laughed and Maura heard the clinking of ice cubes in a glass followed by a crackle as the liquor, probably Scotch, spashed into the tumbler.

"Good for you, Maura. Grow a backbone. Put me in my place. Head and ear, okay, but if she kisses you anyplace else; I'd rather not hear the details. Maybe you could just say _fait accompli _or _alea iacta est _as a code."

Maura giggled. "Qui, Maman."

"So where were we, darling, in your tale of middle-aged concupiscence?"

"She kissed me."

"Yes, thrice."

"And this morning..." Maura looked over her shoulder to verify she was alone before continuing. "When I woke up, she was holding my boob."

"Oh Maura, what a crass word."

Constance took a long pull of her whiskey and continued. "So your detective is a breast man. That's good news, darling. You are especially well-endowed in that area. I'd like to think you inherited it from me, even if it's not biologically possible."

"Mommmm!" Maura was growing exaperated. " I know it was probably accidental, but..what do you think?"

"Maura, we all know that there are no accidents when it comes to human behavior. Jane did not accidentally climb into your bed and fondle your breast in her sleep. It was at best a subconscious desire manifesting itself while the superego slept."

"She wasn't fondling, mother, just holding. She was fast asleep, drooling on my neck, in fact."

"How did she get into your bed, Maura?"

"We always sleep together."

"Ah." Constance said. "That's perfectly natural for two adult best friends."

"Yes. I know."

"No, Maura. It isn't."

The doctor's shoulder's sagged.

"Should we stop?"

"No, of course not. Your goal is to bed the woman and she's already in your bed. You've won half the battle."

Maura smiled. "Thank you, mom."

"Oh my sweet girl, you are so guileless and I love you."

"I love you too, mom. Oh, Jane's up."

The detective was stomping down the wood stairs, making as much noise as a two hundred pound man.

"Coffee, Maura."

The M.E. pointed at the pot and mouthed. "I'm talking to my mother."

Jane made a sour face.

"Jane sends her regards, mother."

"Likewise. Was there anything else, darling, or shall I leave you to your beloved?"

"Actually there was...Do you remember the Gay Head Lighthouse?"

Constance was quiet for a moment and her voice a bit sadder as she answered.

"Of course. Your father loved it there. We would take you to Gay Head each summer and the two of you would spend hours walking the beach looking for fairy stones. He told you they warded off bad dreams."

"Yes." Maura smiled at the memory, but her eyes were sad.

"Jane and I were there yesterday and we visited the lighthouse. It has been placed on the list of the most endangered historic places. With the current rate of erosion, it will be gone in 2 years. I made a small personal contribution to the fund, but I was wondering..."

Constance finished her sentence. "If the Isles Foundation could cover the preservation? Yes, I will handle it personally."

"Thank you, mother."

"A mere bagatelle."

"For everything, mom."

"That's what I'm here for, my love. We'll talk again soon. Get back to your prospective paramour."

"Bye, mom."

Maura pressed the end call button and turned to Jane who was rooting through the closet and cursing under her breath.

"What the fuck is muesli? Who eats this shit? What am I a freakin' rabbit?"

"Jane, my mother is going to pay to save the lighthouse."

"Oh yeah?" Jane turned to face the doctor. "You think I could get my 90 bucks back then?"

"I suppose you could." The doctor looked thoughtful.

"Joke, Maur."

"Ah. Good one, Jane. What do you want to do today?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. I will be glad to take you to breakfast since the only cereal you seem to buy is made of pebbles and thorns, but after that I am relaxing. No quick stop to look at a cranberry bog or watch candles being made. Nothing. Maybe a walk on the beach."

The doctor agreed immediately.

"I'll just go up and change."

Before she left the kitchen, she bent over to pat Jo Friday on the head, making certain to give Jane a good view of her cleavage.

_Maura Isles, lesbian seductress. _

She giggled to herself as she climbed the stairs to the bedroom.

* * *

"C'mon, Maura. I have the blanket, the cooler, the sunscreen and the dog. What else could we possibly need? If we forgot something it's literally a 50 yard walk back to the house."

Jane's posture positively radiated impatience as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, one leg in the front foyer, the other outside on the front porch.

"I'm just looking for my journal, Jane, a little beach reading."

"Your journal? Like a diary?"

"No, The International Journal of Neuropsychopharmacology."

"No way. You are not reading that on vacation. Doesn't your family have a pile of beach novels laying around?"

"Beach novels? What constitutes a beach novel? Must it have a nautical theme?"

Maura had crossed the room and was scanning a shelf of mostly hard-covered books. She ran her fingers along the spines, silently reading and rejecting title after title. Finally she pulled a book from the shelf and turned to the huffing detective.

"Herman Melville, Jane? Would Billy Budd be appropriate? It's set aboard a ship, which is not technically the beach."

Jane dropped everything she was holding on the porch and strode into the living room, intent on flaying her friend with sarcasm, but when she saw the doctor's earnest and hopeful expression as she clutched the slim volume, she broke into a wide grin.

"If that's the best you can do, Maura, I'll take it, but beach novels are usually completely mindless trash. The kind of book you'd be embarrassed for someone to see you reading on the T."

Maura's eyes widened and she tilted her head suggestively.

"Do you mean erotica, detective?"

Jane raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe, whatcha got?"

Maura slipped the Melville book back into the bookcase and slid her fingers across the underside of the bottom shelf. The wainscoting gave way with a click revealing a hutch crammed with paperbacks.

"This is my mother's secret stash."

"Constance's porn, eww." Jane shuddered.

"Well, not exactly porn, but close. Sneaking these into my room as a preteen was how I discovered that sex was not only for the passing on of genetic material to another generation."

Jane pulled a book at random out of the pile. The title was _The Sailor's Wench _and the cover featured a bare chested man with an eyepatch clutching an impossibly voluptuous woman whose mouth hung open in an expression that was meant to convey sexual readiness, but to Jane looked like idiocy.

"Perfect, Maur. This is definitely beach reading. Let's find the cheesiest of the cheesy and take it with us."

They settled on _Lust in the Highlands, _the cover of which was nearly identical to the other except the bare chested man here was wearing a kilt and appeared to have 2 functioning eyes. The woman's mouth gaped just as stupidly.

Jane tossed the blanket haphazardly onto the rock-strewn sand and dropped onto it, pulling Jo Friday onto her lap. She rubbed her belly, kissed her snout and finally let her go to bark and chase the breaking waves. She had slept beautifully two nights in a row and felt nearly giddy with an entire day and night of relaxation still ahead of her. She hadn't had three days off in a row since, she counted back, the previous December.

Maura sat gingerly next to her on the blanket. Jane automatically reached out and took her hand.

"Thanks for making me come here, Maur. I really needed this."

She squeezed the smaller hand once and released it, wrapping her own hands around her knees and gazing out across the slate-blue sea.

"I'm glad you came, Jane. I would have been very disappointed if you didn't. I know it was hard for you to leave Boston with your open caseload and with...with the recent strangeness between us after my disclosure."

Jane furrowed her brow and hugged her legs tighter.

"If there was any strangeness between us, Maur, it was entirely my fault. I...I could have been a better friend to you this past week. I should have listened and reassured and shown you how much I care. Your 'disclosure' struck a nerve with me."

_Was Jane going to come out? _

Maura wanted to speak, the words were flooding her mind and begging to be let out her mouth. Statistics about internalized homophobia, words of caring for Jane, questions, theories, hypotheses, all jumbled together and ready to rush past her lips. She bit them back and swallowed hard. She had spent enough time with detectives to know when it was best to remain quiet and let the other person fill the silence. She clasped her hands together to keep from reaching across the six inches of blanket and touching Jane. But Jane was a detective, a very good one, and she could remain silent forever.

They may have sat there forever, in silence, had Jo not trotted up to them with something in her mouth. She sat in front of Jane and dropped it at her feet.

"Eww. What is that?"

Jane scooted back from the thing. Maura bent over and picked it up.

"It's the carapace of a callinectus sapidus, the common blue crab. You should thank her, Jane. She brought it to you because she loves you."

Jane patted the small dog on her shaggy head.

"Thank you, Jo, for bringing me a smelly dead crab crackapus. You're a good girl, but next time you find anything old and stinky bring it to Auntie Maura. She likes those things."

Maura wrapped the carapace carefully and tucked it into her beach bag. She would clean it at home and put it into her memento box. From her bag she pulled the battered copy of _Lust in the Highlands_.

"Are you ready for your beach novel, Jane?"

"Yeah, sure. We'll read it together. It will be fun. I will be…let me see." Jane flipped through the book. "Lord Malcolm MacGregor and you will be the poor but honest lass Una Brodie."

Jane flipped some more, scanning page after page and scowling until she came to an acceptable passage.

"Scoot closer, Maur. We have to share the book."

"Aren't we going to begin with the first chapter?"

"No. We're only reading the good parts."

Maura brought her delicate brows together.

"But, Jane, how will we know the context of the scene? And why do you get to be the lord and I have to be the wench?"

"Context won't matter, trust me. I get to be the lord because I'm taller and you're the girl because you're bustier."

Maura couldn't argue with that. She slid next to the detective and rested her head on her shoulder.

"I'm ready Jane."

Jane took a deep breath and began, dropping her alto down into the baritone range.

"'Tis my right as Lord to take the maidenhead of any lass who lives upon me lands. Don't ye worry, come your wedding night you'll be glad o' it."

Maura pitched her voice half an octave higher for her part.

"Oh, my Lord, you are so big and I so wee. Do you think it will kill me?"

"I never heard of a maid that's been put to grave by bed sport."

By the time they reached the actual bedding, they couldn't continue, choking on laughter and tears of pure mirth brought on by Maura's reading of the line:

"Ach, but it's so great and red, me Lord. How shall I put such a rod in me wee cunny?"

Jane stood, hands on her knees, gulping air, tears still streaming down her face.

"I will never be able to look at Constance the same way again."

Maura looked up at her from the blanket.

"You should laugh more, Jane. You are absolutely beautiful when you laugh."

"And you are beautiful all the time, even when you're being a pouty baby."

"I'm never a pouty baby, Jane, never."

Jane just smirked. "C'mon, Maur. Let's take a walk. I need to clear my head. Just a little one, down to those rocks."

She pointed down the beach.

"Jane, those rocks are at least a mile away. I don't mind, of course, but that's not a little walk."

Jane grinned. "I'll race you."

She took off, gliding gracefully down the wet sand on her long legs. Maura was soon beside her, working harder, but matching her gait, stride by stride. When they arrived, Jane looked down at her watch.

"Six minutes. Not bad for two forty-year-old has beens."

"We're not has beens, Jane. We are in the prime of our lives. I for one, would not want to be 20 again or even 30."

Jane shuddered. "Me neither."

"As we age we become more of who we are." Maura proclaimed.

Jane just laughed. Adrenalin was rushing through her system and she hadn't felt this alive in years.

"Wanna climb the rocks?"

Maura eyed the soot grey boulders each topped with a toupee of green moss that stretched out into the ocean, the smallest of which was the size of an SUV.

"I don't know, Jane. It may be dangerous. The tide will be coming in soon."

"I won't let you fall, Maura. I promise."

Jane boosted herself up, her strong triceps bunching as she lifted her weight onto the first rock. She reached down with both hands and pulled the doctor up beside her. They scrambled out another twenty feet and stopped. Jane pulled her iphone out of the pocket of her jean shorts.

"Pose for me, Maur. You look all wind tossed and pink cheeked. I need to capture this moment. Besides, you need a new Facebook profile pic. The one you have makes you look like a banker or a tax attorney."

Maura squatted amid the moss and looked up at Jane, her smile reaching her eyes, crinkling their corners. When they reached the first boulder on dry sand, Jane jumped down and automatically reached her arms up for the M.E. who was sitting on top with her legs dangling.

"I gotcha, Maur. I promise. Just jump."

She did and the detective caught her about the waist. Though she was knocked off balance, Jane remained standing, letting her hands linger just a few extra seconds on Maura's hips. Then she pulled away, turned back and wrapped her arms around her friend, crushing her tightly against her chest. Maura inhaled deeply the warm, beachy smell coming off of Jane's hair and under it, at the pulse points of her neck, Jane's own unique scent.

_This is what it would be like if Jane loved me. _

She was the first to pull away and she regretted it immediately, the chill of the ocean air quicky stealing the warmth from where her own body had fit into Jane's.

* * *

Maura joined Jane on the back porch of the cottage wearing a rough wool fisherman's sweater in a soft moss green. The garment hung loose on her, the sleeves falling almost to the tips of her fingers. She carried a similar one in cream for Jane. Before handing it over she brought the sweater to her face and inhaled.

"This was my father's. He hasn't worn it in over a decade, but I can still smell his pipe smoke on it and I feel instantly comforted. Go ahead, put it on. There is nothing warmer than an Aran knit sweater. It's made for this climate."

Jane draped it over her shoulders, but didn't put it on. "I can't wear this, Maur. What if I take away your father's scent or leave my own."

Maura smiled into the growing darkness. "That would be wonderful, Jane. To wrap myself in the two people I've loved most in this world."

Jane didn't reply, but she pulled the sweater over her head, carefully pulling her long hair out from the neck.

"Thanks, Maur. It's really warm. Now I can sit out here and watch the ocean a little longer."

After a moment she asked, "What's wrong with your dad?"

"Alzheimers."

"Do you not want to talk about it? I understand if you don't. This has been such a great weekend, I don't want to bring up something that will make you sad."

"Oh Jane, it does make me sad, but there isn't anything that I don't want to share with you."

The doctor toyed a moment with the cut glass tumbler in her hand, sipping the last of the dark amber liquid and then spoke.

"It started when I was a teenager. He began to forget things, simple things, birthdays, the names of acquaintances. By the time I was in college he couldn't work any more He couldn't keep the substance of his lectures in his mind, though he was a brilliant man. When I was in Medical School, mom had to put him into a facility. He couldn't be left alone for a minute. Once he wandered off in the time it took his home attendant to go to the bathroom. He was missing for three days until a private investigator that mother hired found him in a shelter in Jamaica Plain."

"Oh Maura." Jane moved closer and began stroking her friend's hand.

"Jane, could you get me another drink?"

"Of course. What are you drinking? Bourbon?"

"Grand Marnier. The bottle's on the coffee table."

Jane squeezed the doctor's knee before getting up and planted a quick kiss on her forehead when she returned, bringing the bottle with her. Maura pulled the cork from the bottle with a soft pop and filled her tumbler a third of the way with the sweet cognac.

"Will you join me, Jane? This is the perfect drink for a chilly evening."

"No. I'll stick to beer. Jane Rizzoli on hard liquor is not a pretty sight and I've already had 5 beers. You know what they say..."

Jane repeated the cautionary ditty, "Liquor before beer, you're in the clear. Beer before liquor, you'll only get sicker."

Jane waited for Maura to pick up the thread of the story. After a few moments she did.

"Mom and I spent an entire summer researching and visiting facilities. We finally agreed on one in Zurich where he would get the best care. He seems happy there, Jane. But he doesn't know us. He met a woman at the sanitarium and fell in love with her. One of the last times we visited, he introduced us to his wife. He didn't remember his four decade marriage to my mother or that they had raised a child together."

The doctor swiped away a tear from her eye and took a deep swallow from her glass and replenished it from the bottle resting on the railing. Jane moved closer and put an arm around the smaller woman.

"Shhhush, Maura." She bent in close and kissed both eyelids, her lips coming away wet and tasting of salt.

"Mother tried bringing in wedding pictures, mementos of a lifetime together, but he wouldn't believe no matter what evidence was placed in front of him. Finally he banned us from visiting. We were two strangers who were upsetting him and his wife."

She took one more sip from her tumbler and put it down on the floor next to her.

"They were soulmates, my parents, and he forgot her. She still loves him, Jane. She stays in Zurich so that even if they can't sleep in the same bed, they can sleep under the same sky."

Her tears were flowing freely; Jane could feel their warm heat against her neck as she continued stroking Maura's soft hair, murmering whatever came into her mind.

"It's okay. It's okay, baby. Cry it out. I'm here."

When the tears finally stopped, they sat in silence, Jane's arm still curled around Maura's shoulder.

"Jane?"

"Mmm?'

"Jane, you are my soulmate. I love you. I'm in love with you."

Jane didn't speak, but she didn't pull away either. The hand that had been stroking through the doctor's tresses had stilled, but remained resting gently at the nape of her neck. Maura waited a beat and then lifted her head off of Jane's shoulder. The detective's eyes were closed. She slowly moved in until her lips were resting softly against Jane's. She waited again, but the only response was Jane's quick but regular respiration and the strong thrum of her heart. She moved her mouth slightly to nip at Jane's upper and then lower lip in turn.

Jane's hand tightened against the doctor's neck as she pulled the smaller woman flush against her. She kissed Maura back, dry mouthed, lips closed, not leading, but definitely responsive, her breath coming harder and less even through her nose. Maura ran her tongue gently along Jane's lip and then deepened the kiss, sliding into Jane's mouth as she pressed full into her body. Jane shuddered at the warm, orange and cognac taste of the doctor's mouth and when their tongues touched she felt it as a sharp throb between her legs. She broke the kiss, resting her cheek against Maura's.

"Maur, we have to stop."

"Why, Jane?" She was breathing heavy too, her skin flushed and tingling.

Jane extracted herself from her friend's embrace and stood, pacing on the wood planking of the porch. The further away from Maura, the easier it was to think.

"I need to think, Maur. I will be back. I promise."

She took the three steps off the porch in one leap and jogged around the perimeter of the house, the cool night air fresh against her sweaty skin. When she reached the driveway she automatically headed toward the truck, popped open the unlocked driver's door and started the engine. Nothing soothed Jane's mind like driving and now, perhaps more than any other time in her life, she needed to calm her racing thoughts.

She flipped the transmission into reverse and looking over her shoulder, navigated the long, unlit, driveway of the Isles cottage without incident to where it met a narrow, unlit lane. Out of the driveway, she slammed the truck into gear and sped off into the night.

Over the sound of the engine and her sharp focus on the dark and twisting road, Jane neither saw nor heard her friend run through the house and down the stairs of the front porch, shouting for her.

"Jane! Jane! Please don't leave."

" I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

" I had too much to drink."

"Jane! Don't leave me."

As the engine noise receded, all that was left was the gentle sound of waves lapping the shore and a lone woman weeping in the night


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Thank you all for your thoughful comments about my rating dilemna...I think I will ultimately have to change the rating from T to M and additionally post a warning at the start of each chapter that includes mature content. As for now, we are still in T territory.**

**I would also like to publicly thank my dear friend Margaret, who is a published author and professional editor here in NY, for fixing all of my terrible punctuation and translating sentences into Italian as well as making brilliant suggestions about plot, pacing, language and character development that have greatly enhanced this tale.**

* * *

Jane drove blindly down narrow, snaking roads, turning left and right at near random. She could no longer hear the ocean even with the window and moonroof open, so she estimated she had traveled some distance inland. The night was ink and even the headlights on high beam did little to illuminate her path through brush and forest. She picked her way more slowly now, unable to tell unpaved road from shoulder. She recalled all the coves and ponds, bogs and lakes that dotted the island, how mudflats gave way to creeks that bled into swampy bottomland. She remembered the bridge at Chappaquiddick and how one wrong turn ended up in tragedy on a night like this 44 years ago. Mary Jo Kopechne was running toward a kiss and Jane running from one.

_Jesus, Rizzoli. You survive being stabbed and shot, only to drown in a truck off Cape Cod. Wouldn't that just be your fucking luck_.

Eventually she gave up and turned off the engine of the big Jeep. She reclined the seat and closed her eyes. She could now hear the dim lap of water somewhere to her left and the scurrying sounds of small mammals making their way through the underbrush. A night bird hooted in a tree, its call like the sound of an oboe. It wasn't soothing to Jane; she hated nature and would have vastly preferred the grinding of the trash compactor on a sanitation truck, the angry bleep of a city bus horn, the gunshot pop of a backfiring car engine or any other of the myriad night sounds of her beloved Boston to this.

_Maura. _

With the stress of driving removed, thoughts of the doctor flooded Jane's mind. She could still taste cognac faintly on her lips and tongue transferred there by Maura's mouth, and she could smell the vanilla and spice of her perfume lingering in the leather upholstery of the car she drove all day. She shifted in her seat and was instantly made aware of the warm dampness pooling in her sex and soaking through the soft cotton of her briefs into the sturdier denim of her jeans.

_You'd take a bullet for her, but not a kiss. Idiot, Rizzoli. _

Jane laughed at herself in the darkness and reached for the ignition. When the big engine turned over, the navigation system switched on and Jane stabbed at the icon marked home. She followed the directions of the robotic female voice, turning left when told, bearing right as instructed. She was glad for the company; the precise and logical tone reminded her of Maura. Everything reminded Jane of Maura.

"Take ramp to ferry on right."

Jane did as told and found herself driving up to the open maw of the Cross Sound Ferry.

Damn it. The home setting on the truck's GPS was programmed for Maura's townhouse in Boston, not the Isles cottage on the Vineyard. The robotic voice would have her travel the 10 miles across the sound by boat and then drive another 85 miles north on I-95. Jane jabbed at the touch screen, trying to call up the recent destination list.

"Motherfuckin' piece of shit."

She finally managed to turn off the now irritating voice who asked her again and again to "Check your address and try again."

A male voice called from her left.

"Hey lady, you on or off? We're closing the hull."

Jane looked up at the large boat with its bow notched open at a 45 degree angle. She could probably use the hour and half round trip to settle her nerves before facing the doctor and having the conversation that she'd been putting off for... well for years.

"Yeah, I'm on."

The attendant scanned a sticker on the windshield and waved her up the ramp and on board as the bow slowly descended on mechanical winches behind her.

Jane had the large ship mostly to herself, tourists to the island preferring to stay over Sunday night and make the most of the long holiday weekend. She supposed the crossing tomorrow evening would be very different, crowded with well-heeled families sadly making their way back to Boston for work on Tuesday. She strolled through empty seating clusters, finally making her way to a heavy steel door and, beyond it, the open-air smoking section at the stern of the ship. She leaned on the railing and watched the lights of the Vineyard recede until they were indistinguishable from the stars on the horizon, the borderland where sky met sea a mere streak of charcoal against the deeper black. With no more of the Vineyard to watch, Jane trained her eyes on the ship's wake as it frothed and roiled far below her; the ferry was riding high on the Sound tonight, its belly nearly empty of vehicles.

She was aware that she was avoiding direct thoughts of Maura, but the doctor was always there, the soft blanket on which all her other thoughts rested. She looked at her watch. They must be nearly in port, a fact supported by the shift in the ferry's engines and the gentling of the wake as the captain slowly guided the big boat into dock. In less than an hour she'd be back on the Vineyard, back to Maura. She'd kiss her friend softly and with reverence, the way she had meant to yesterday at the lighthouse had her lips not skittered away in fear at the last moment, landing her declaration of love not on the doctor's soft mouth, but somewhere south of her hairline. They'd talk and then go to bed to sleep wrapped in each other's arms as usual.

"Wood's Hole, Mass. All ashore!"

The engines were off and Jane turned from the railing, flexing her fingers painfully. Her hands ached from clutching the cold metal for so long. She rubbed them together and hunched herself deeper into Terrance Isle's sweater, glad for its warmth.

"Miss, it's all ashore. You have the big red Jeep, yeah?" The young deckhand had apparently been sent to find her.

"Yeah. I guess I have to turn it around. I'll be heading back with you. If it's easier, I can just back out when we get to Oak Bluffs."

He shook his head. "Sorry, miss. This is the last run for tonight. We're still operating on a Spring schedule. She leaves again tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m."

Jane balled her sore hands into fists and slammed them against her thighs. "Fuck! I need to get back to the Vineyard tonight. I can't wait another 12 fuckin' hours!"

She must have looked like a madwoman with her wild hair, frizzled from the salt spray, her bruised face and overly large sweater. The deckhand swallowed hard and took a step back. He looked her over and decided that calm and helpful was his best tactic.

"The Maid of the Sound won't cross again until the morning, but if you have a car, you may be able to drive round to Providence and catch a passenger ferry, if they're still running. You can find a schedule in the boathouse or rent a private boat to cross you."

"Cocksucker!" Jane growled. The boy's eyes went wild. "Not you." She amended. "The situation."

* * *

Maura wrapped herself tighter in her father's sweater; the night had quickly moved from chilly to outright cold. She could see her breath with every exhale. She had cried herself out and was feeling the fool for sitting on the damp porch waiting like a loyal dog for Jane to return. She looked through the glass door into the living room where Jo Friday was curled up in front of the fire. She was more a dog to Jane than the little yorkie.

How dare Jane rush off like a spoiled child into the night. That wasn't what friends did and above all, Maura thought of Jane as her best friend.

"Immature asshole." Maura muttered to herself. Her thoughts twisted and turned upon themselves until she was no longer sure what she felt.

Maura was not good with emotions; she was certain that she felt the same things that everyone else did, but somewhere there was a disconnect, particularly when it came to perceptiveness of other people's motives. Her solution was to rely as often as she could on the tangible, the rational, the logical and to always err on the side of kindness. Could she have so badly misread the signs?

She knew Jane loved her in at least a platonic fashion and her body language over the weekend seemed to indicate she was open to more. She certainly responded physically to their kiss. Was Jane afraid? She promised to return and hadn't. Did she no longer want Maura in her life?

Self-doubt pushed anger aside and Dr. Isles began to cry again, big gulping sobs that gave way to alcohol-fueled hiccups. She still had half a bottle of Grand Marnier in her system and now she could taste it again. She stood and walked to the edge of the porch and vomited over the railing into a copse of blue toadflax.

Jane had been gone for three hours now and a new feeling began to gnaw at Maura: fear. What if Jane had an accident? She had been drinking beer steadily all day. She didn't know the roads on the island, and it was dark here with hundreds of places where a wrong turn could plunge a car into water.

Images of the Kopechne crime scene flooded into her mind.

A battered black sedan half submerged in murky water, its punctured rear wheels resting on the riprap. An angry skid mark veering across weathered planking and into the cold dark channel. A grey and swollen body, eyes rolled back and tongue protruding lying on a steel gurney.

"Oh Jane! No!"

She raced into the house and began a frantic search for her cell phone, yanking pillows from the couch, turning pockets inside out, even checking in the refrigerator; she had been drinking after all.

_It must be in the car with Jane. _

She emerged minutes later in a battered pair of duck boots and a quilted flannel jacket, carrying a big, yellow flashlight and a tapanga; the large knife was a gift to her father from an East African tribal chief. It was essentially priceless, but should work well cutting through beach scrub and as a defense against an aggressive snake, though she shuddered at the thought of meeting one. Dismissing the roads as too slow, she took off across the dunes on a mile hike to the nearest cottage.

A Sergeant from the Chilmark Police Department arrived at the Knutsens' within minutes of being called. Maura sat with him in the small kitchen sipping tepid tea and pushing beach plum cobbler around on her plate, nauseated but too polite to decline the sweet dessert.

She felt terrible having woken her neighbors; they were early-to-bed, early-to-rise people and had greeted her at the door in robes and pajamas. She gave a detailed description of the truck and of Jane, omitting the fact that she had been drinking, but not that she was a decorated police officer. Maura knew cops everywhere would work harder looking for one of their own.

The Sergeant had no qualms about eating on the job and finished his cobbler, asking for seconds while he jotted down notes in a leather-bound journal.

"How would you characterize Detective Rizzoli's mental state when she left your premises?"

Maura thought for a moment. "She was agitated."

"But not angry?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Depressed?"

"No. Definitely not."

"And you had argued?"

"No… not exactly."

He put down his notebook and looked at her directly for the first time. "A lovers' quarrel?" He asked, not unkindly.

Maura didn't know how to answer that question. She and Jane were not lovers and they had not technically quarreled, but Jane did run off as a direct result of Maura's declaration of love.

"Yes. I suppose it was." She finally replied.

He nodded, jotted another note in his book and closed it. Maura would have loved to see the last entry; had she been dismissively characterized as a hysterical girlfriend?

The Sergeant dropped her off at home and promised to return in person as soon as Jane was found. She sat once again on the front porch and resumed her vigil, this time keeping Jo Friday on her lap. Stroking the little dog kept her hands warm and her anxiety at bay. She didn't have to wait long. Within the hour a cruiser pulled up into her driveway and a small figure slid out from behind the wheel.

"Dr. Isles?" The voice was high and female, but the gait was a rolling swagger.

Maura smiled to herself. They had sent their token lesbian to deal with her.

"Have you found Jane?" She walked off the porch, still clutching Jo Friday, and met the officer midway to her patrol car. "Where is she?"

"I imagine she's probably back in Boston by now."

"What?" Maura looked as confused as she felt.

"I'm Officer Carla Timmons, but my friends call me Big Carl."

She offered her hand and Maura shook it, wondering how small Little Carl must be as she towered over the tiny policewoman.

Big Carl flipped open her notebook and read, "Your car is a 2012 Jeep Grand Cherokee, red, Mass plates MD 0919?"

"Yes." Maura confirmed.

"Your season ferry pass was scanned at 9:02 PM tonight at the terminal in Oak Bluffs. Driver matched your description of Jane Rizzoli: female, dark hair, 5'10", 130, jeans and light colored sweater, etc. etc."

"Oh." Maura felt everything drain out of her. She was a hollow paper woman who may blow away or be torn to shreds by the slightest breeze. She closed her eyes in an effort to keep the tears in. Jane was safe, but she was also irrefutably gone.

"Hey." Big Carl's voice broke her out of her preoccupation. "If you need a ride to the ferry tomorrow, give me a call."

"I… I can't. Jane has my phone."

"Well, I'll just have to drop by at the end of my shift."

The little woman winked at her, slid back into her cruiser and backed away down the long drive. The doctor clutched Jane's dog tighter against her chest and slowly made her way back to the house.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Hi Everyone, Thank you all for your continued interest. This is, I think, the chapter you have all been waiting for. This will also be the last T-rated chapter. Starting with 22 we begin sailing more mature waters.**

*****Some of you have written to me asking if this is the end of the story. No! Not at all. We are a little past the half way point. There are still murders to be solved, family and coworkers to come out to and a few twists ahead. I'm not sure exactly what will happen because I am not the sort of person who works with an outline, but I have a general idea of where I want this to go. I have already written an epilogue because it came to me out of the blue while I was deep conditioning my hair in the shower and I had to get it down, but expect at least a dozen more chapters before that. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter; it's very special to me.**

* * *

Jane jogged through the marina, scanning slips to her left and right. Most slips were empty; Sunday night of a three-day weekend found boat enthusiasts out on the water or docked someplace a bit more festive than Wood's Hole. She had checked with the information clerk in the boathouse, and there was indeed one more ferry that night to Martha's Vineyard. It was leaving from Providence, Rhode Island in 30 minutes. Jane actually laughed when she heard the news; she wouldn't make it the 80 miles to Providence even if she had a police helicopter at her disposal. Her one recourse was to find a private captain who would be willing to ferry her across the Sound after 10 p.m. on a Sunday night.

"Not fucking likely." She muttered to herself.

She sat on a damp piling and pulled her iphone out of her pocket for the fourth time that night. She looked at the photo she had snapped of Maura on the rocks earlier that afternoon. She had never looked lovelier, her face bare of makeup but kissed by the sun, freckles sprinkled liberally across her nose and cheeks, her eyes bright and happy. She ran her thumb across the photo and then hit speed dial. It rang and dumped her into voicemail. For the fourth time she left a message.

"Maur, I know you're mad. I love you. Don't give up on me. I will be back tonight even if I have to swim across."

She looked out across the small harbor toward the darker waters beyond; swimming was, of course, out of the question. If she had her shield and gun she could perhaps commandeer a boat, not that she would know how to drive it. It was a moot point since anything that identified her as a police officer was safely stowed in her lock box back in Boston. She had been driving all evening without her license, which was in her wallet on the floor of Maura's bedroom… along with all of her cash and credit cards.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." She screamed into the night, kicking the wood piling for emphasis on the third "shit."

"That's sure a lot of shit for a beautiful Sunday night."

Jane tensed and spun at the sound. She hated that someone had come close enough to speak to her without her noticing. She was really off of her game tonight. If he was a psychopath, he would have had her down and pinned, maybe dead, if that was his goal.

Jane shook her head, sometimes it was hard for her to remember that most people lived their entire lives and never came across anyone intent on doing them physical harm. She scowled into the darkness, but relaxed her coiled muscles. The man was old and only of medium height and build; she could take him easily, but her instinct told her he wasn't a threat.

He gestured at the piling Jane had just kicked.

"That's my lady at t'other end of that dockline."

"Sorry." Jane shrugged.

"No harm done, 'cept maybe to your foot."

He took a step closer and peered into her face.

"Your fella do that to you?" He pointed to the fading bruises along her jaw.

"No." Jane bristled. "I'm a homicide detective." As if that explained everything.

"That so?"

"Yeah."

Jane felt her pocket for the shield that wasn't there.

"I don't have any ID, but here…." She flipped through the photos on her phone until she found one of herself and Frankie in full dress uniform at the St. Patrick's Day parade. The man looked and nodded.

"Ayuh, got a daughter's an officer out Chilmark way. Good girl, she is."

Jane was growing impatient with her interlocutor and his painfully slow, downeaster way of speaking, but she liked the man and needed him to like her if she was going to get a ride across the Sound from him tonight.

She stuck out her hand.

"I'm Detective Jane Rizzoli or just Jane."

"Ethan Timmons, friends call me Timmy."

He held her hand for a moment, turning it over and leaning in when he noticed the scar on her palm. Jane tried to pull away but he held fast, surprisingly strong for a man his age, at least 70, she imagined.

Finally he released it and held up his own left hand.

"Got me a match to yours. I was gored by a marlin as a young man, bill went straight through. Caught a nasty infection after, nearly lost the hand."

Jane shoved her hands deep into her jean pockets.

"I was gored by a maniac, both hands."

Uncomfortable, she changed the subject.

"Is that a fishing boat?" She asked, pointing with her chin at the long white silhouette bobbing beside the dock.

"'Tis. She's a deep sea gal, 51 footah, with a winch for trawling. Don't get out for that much now. Mostly she carries tourists on day trips and they like line fishing."

Jane didn't understand winches and trawling, but she nodded in agreement with the old fisherman.

"So… she could easily make a Sound crossing?"

He looked at her as if she'd just called his cherished mother a seahag.

"The Sound? I could piss across the Sound. _My Fair Maeve_ could cross the Atlantic without a problem."

Jane laughed. She really like this guy.

"Okay. I meant tonight. Could you ferry me across the Sound tonight. I really can't wait for the ferry tomorrow morning."

He looked out across the harbor and then down at his watch before returning his eyes to Jane.

"Ayuh, can do. A night crossing will be $150."

"That's fine." Jane replied. "But I will have to pay you tomorrow. My wallet is at my, um... my girlfriend's house on the Vineyard."

He shook his head. "'Fraid not. A fluke on the line is worth more than the rumor of a hundred bass ahead."

Jane furrowed her brows.

"That means no credit, right."

"Ayuh, but come on board a spell. I've got a nice chowdah made by my dear wife."

Jane grinned, she was hungry.

"So I'll eat your chowder, we'll bond and you'll cross me, right?"

"Naw. Chowduh's free. Crossing is $150."

Timmy passed a steaming bowl to Jane. The soup was thick and creamy, studded with pink bacon and dense chunks of halibut and snapper. Jane allowed herself a few minutes of peace to enjoy the meal before turning her thoughts back to the 10 miles of open water that stood between her and Maura.

"Timmy?"

"Ayuh."

"My girlfriend..." The term came easier now than the first time she said it, when it nearly caused her to stutter.

"She's an Isles. I'm sure she'll pay double your usual fee to get me back there tonight."

Timmy laughed. Jane could tell he was enjoying this negotiation.

"Ah, she's an Isles, is she? Maybe that means something in the big city, but here it's cash in hand."

"I bet she'd pay triple." Jane blurted.

Timmy laughed again, louder this time. "You're that good, aye?"

Jane blushed immediately and furiously. She doubted she was good at all, never having slept with a woman and she was certainly a dud with all the men she'd been with. How on earth would she ever please Maura? Her terrified mind conjured up the image of Dr. Isles, wearing nothing but a white lab coat leaning over Jane and diagnosing her with Lesbius Frigidus Vaginarium or some such Latin monstrosity meaning Jane was a lousy lay. The fear came rushing back and Jane briefly contemplated bolting out of the boat and straight back to Boston. She pushed past it and like a good detective, focused on the task at hand. She dug down to her toes and pulled out the old Rizzoli braggadocio.

"Yeah. I'm that good. " She said with a wink.

Timmy's phone rang and he answered it, a smile on his lips and in his voice.

"Yes, lovey girl. I found you some rare treasure today: a conch shell, half a dozen holey stones and a tiny pink rock, shaped like a heart."

The last word sounded like "hat" in his strong, New England accent, and Jane pictured stretches of beach pebbled with tiny pink top hats.

The woman on the other end spoke, but Jane couldn't hear.

"Soon, my Maeve. I'm just sharing a cup of your chowduh with a big detective from the city."

He hung up and turned back to Jane.

"My wife makes crafts from bits and pieces of shell and stone that I find in my travels; sells it to the tourists during the summer. Our girl bought her a tablet computer for Christmas last and now she sells year-round on the webs."

He chuckled. "Don't hardly make any profit, but she enjoys it. She's writin' a cooking book too, gonna sell it online."

Something niggled at Jane's mind and she began pacing the boat's deck in the same manner she did when putting together clues at a crime scene.

"Got it!" She pumped her fist.

"Timmy, could you call your wife back?"

He shot her a puzzled look but placed the call.

"Lovey, the detective wants to have a word."

"Mrs. Timmons? Maeve? Do you have a paypal account?"

It took Maeve a few minutes to convince her husband that Jane could use her phone to transfer money over the "interwebs" right into the Timmons's account. When he finally understood, he clapped Jane on the shoulder and instructed her to untie the clove hitches while he started the big diesel engine.

"C'mon detective. Let's get you to your gal."

* * *

Jane limped up the driveway towards the Isles cottage, still clutching her now useless iphone in her hand. She had walked the last mile and a half, navigating through bramble using her phone's GPS and flashlight app. The overtaxed battery had died about quarter of a mile back, pitching her immediately into darkness and moments later into a coiling gorse of wild blackberry plants. She had snarled and cursed as she fought to free herself from the green tentacles that seemed to grasp at her limbs and snare in her hair. It was her second fall of the night, the first being a nasty skid across a gravel lane and into a drainage ditch.

With no cash on hand, she was force to hitch a ride clear across the island from where Timmy had docked in Edgartown. Her only taker was a drunk townie on a moped clearly not weight rated for 2 adults- the result, a blown tire. Her hip and thigh ached and she knew she'd have a nasty bruise tomorrow.

Maura had left the porch light on, and Jane imagined it a lighthouse guiding her toward safety. She remembered the doctor's confession the previous day at Gayhead and wondered if Maura was sitting alone in her room with only her books, feeling apart from the rest of humanity, a solitary figure in a world of pairs.

_Not any more. I'm almost there, Maura. _

She picked up her pace, a skittering hop jog on her sore leg and closed the distance to the front porch. She hesitated a moment; should she knock? Toss a rock at the window?

_Ridiculous, Rizzoli. Just do it. _

She punched in the alarm code, Maura's birthday, and waited for the door to click open.

Nothing.

She tried again.

Nothing. The third failed attempt would alert the police. She stepped off of the porch and bellowed.

"Maura! Maura! What's the code?"

After a moment a light went on upstairs and the doctor stepped out onto the widow's walk outside of the master bedroom. She was wearing the same clothes she had on when they kissed and looked tiny and pale in the overly large sweater.

"Jane?" She asked in a small astonished voice. "How? I thought you were gone."

"I told you I'd be back, Maur. Don't you listen to all your phone messages? I must have called six times. You always listen to your messages, even when you're mad."

"You have my phone, Jane. It's in the truck. What happened to you?"

Jane took a deep breath and looked up, trying to catch Maura's eye. Her hands were shaking and her throat was tight. She knew she was going to cry before she got the words out.

"Jane?" Maura asked again. "Jane, are you all right?"

"I love you, Maura Isles. I am in love with you, always have been. You…." Her voice broke, shooting up half an octave, but she continued. "You are my soulmate. You are my everything."

She suddenly felt giddy, light as a leaf gliding on a gentle breeze. It was liberating to say it all out loud. She laughed into the moonlight, turning again toward Maura who remained shocked and still on the balcony.

"Now get down here and kiss me."

"It's pi, Jane."

"What?"

"The code is pi."

Jane bounded up the steps, all pain forgotten and punched P-I-E into the security panel.

Nothing, three characters too short. She cleared the screen and thought what kind of pie had 6 letters? Pot? Fig? Cow?

"Maura!" She shouted, desperate with impatience. "What kind of pie?"

The doctor's voice came from the other side of the door.

"The mathematical constant. It's infinite, 314159…."

Jane punched in the numbers and the door clicked open, revealing Maura in a sluice of moonlight, still muttering her numbers.

"2653589793238462643383279502884197169…."

Jane stopped her with a kiss, a rough, crushing kiss that tasted of sea salt and blackberries and tears. The bewildered doctor was lifted off of her feet, her weight fully supported by Jane's arms around her waist. She hung limply, still too stunned to react as Jane took both of her lips into her mouth, sucking hungrily. Slowly she began to respond, her body on autopilot racing ahead of her sluggish emotions. She wrapped her arms around Jane's neck and used the leverage to push herself closer into the detective's torso.

Jane groaned at the increased contact, not that it was too much, but that it was not enough. Kicking the door closed behind her, she spun the doctor around and pressed her full against the wall. She needed every inch of their bodies touching.

Maura's mind had finally caught up with her body; she slipped her fingers into the wild tangles of Jane's hair and pulled her face away.

"Jane, wait."

"Maur, Maur, I love you." The detective panted. She was still crying; they both were.

"Jane, are you going to take it back?"

"No."

"Are you going to leave again?"

She peered into the detective's eyes in the darkness, but her irises were dark with desire and shiny with tears.

"No, baby, never."

"It would hurt too much if you changed your mind. Please, are you sure?"

Jane rested her forehead against Maura's and leaned in until their eyelashes touched.

"I'm sure. I love you Maura Dorthea Isles, and I will never stop."

Maura pulled Jane's lips back against hers and kissed her fiercely, running her tongue across her teeth and deeper into the vault of her mouth. Jane answered with nips and sucks and whimpers.

They traded back and forth, one leading and then retreating to let the other own the kiss. Maura's tongue was a ballerina, twirling and swirling gracefully on the stage of Jane's mouth, pirouetting down the length of Jane's tongue only to exit quickly with a flick at her lips before returning again for an encore. Jane's tongue was a rock star, strutting and grinding and gyrating in Maura's mouth, stroking and sucking at her tongue, making it her own.

Maura wrapped her legs around Jane's waist and pulled her mouth away to nip and suck at her neck.

"Let's go to bed, Jane." She whispered in the detective's ear.

Jane shifted with Maura still in her arms and walked her to the wooden flight running to the second floor. Her legs were trembling from supporting the doctor's weight for so long as well as from desire, but mostly from fear. She sat on the third step, pulling the smaller woman into her lap.

"You don't have to carry me. I can walk on my own… or I could carry you."

She laughed and nipped at Jane's nose.

"You couldn't carry me, Maura. Just give me a minute."

"Maybe not gracefully, but in a fireman's lift, I'm sure I could manage."

She kissed Jane's cheek and whispered solemnly. "We're equals in this, Jane. You're not 'the guy.'"

Jane took in one large, ragged breath and exhaled with a sob. All the anxiety of the day, of the past week, perhaps of a lifetime began leaking out of her. Her shoulders shook and she buried her head in the M.E.'s chest and wept.

Maura sat perfectly still, only her fingers moved, threading through Jane's hair. She carefully worked out bits of twig and blackberry tendrils, smoothing the knotted dark curls one by one and punctuating each finished piece with a soft kiss.

Jane had calmed and was resting quietly against Maura's soft bosom, her arms wrapped tightly around the doctor's waist.

"Maur?"

She lifted her face and accepted a gentle kiss on her eyelid, her upper lip and her chin.

"Maur, is it okay if I just hold you tonight?"

"Of course, my love."

"I want to, but… tomorrow. I promise."

"Shhush, love. When you're ready."

"I am ready, but I just want to hold you and… Maur?"

"Mmm?"

"I want to feel your skin against mine. Can we sleep, um, without clothes?"

Maura smiled into Jane's hair.

"Yes. That's would be wonderful."

"I love you so much, Maura. You're wonderful."

Jane's eyes were still leaking and her nose red and running. Maura pressed one more kiss into her hair and moved to her lips, capturing them in a slow, gentle kiss before pulling away.

"I love you, Jane, only you, always."

Jane grinned through her tears, reaching a hand toward her love's damp face and softly brushing a thumb across her lips.

"I'm sorry, babe. You're covered in my tears and ..." She gestured to her running nose.

Maura answered with a laugh.

"Don't worry, I'm sure some of it was my own. Besides, I threw up earlier and haven't brushed my teeth."

Jane laughed until she snorted.

"Oh, what a thoroughly repulsive first kiss!"

"Second."

Jane rolled her eyes in mock annoyance.

"Do you always have to be right?"

"No, but I usually am."

She shifted Maura off of her lap and stood.

"I think I'm too sore to carry you. You'll have to walk upstairs yourself, Dr. Barf."

"After you, Detective Snot."


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: And so the rating has changed to **mature**... I hope you enjoy this as much as our ladies do!

For those who have asked-My goal is to post 2 chapters a week until this is complete. I think it's better to pace the postings so that I have a little lead time in my writing. I don't want to get to the point where I am racing to do an update and the story suffers.

* * *

Maura stood in the florescent-lit master bath looking out across the dark expanse of her bedroom. Jane was on the balcony, a long, dark silhouette against the billowing white curtains. The sight was surreal, and Maura half feared that the dream woman would dissolve into a curl of black smoke and moonlight if she dared cross the room and part the gauzy drapes. She turned back to the comfort of the bright bathroom and rested her hands on the cool marble of the vanity; they were trembling. Jane wasn't the only one who was afraid. The emotional highs and lows of the day had taxed her fragile psyche and getting exactly what she had been hoping for had its own cost.

She looked into the mirror at her tired, red-rimmed eyes and the tight lines around her mouth. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hands on her diaphragm, in and out, in and out, in and out. She checked her hands again. Still trembling, but not as badly. One more deep breath and she headed for the balcony.

Jane turned when she felt the gentle hand on her back.

"Hey."

"Hey. What are you thinking about?"

"You… us."

"Hmm?"

"All the wasted time."

"I don't consider a moment wasted. You will always be my best friend first and studies have shown that couples who begin as friends have a better than average rate of building a lasting relationship."

"Ah. But are those studies peer reviewed?"

"I… I don't know. Wait, are you teasing me, Jane?"

"Yes. C'mere." She pulled the smaller woman close and whispered into her hair.

"I don't need a study to tell me that you've always been the only one I want to spend time with; that I only sleep when you are by my side; that you make me happy; that I love you more than..."

She took the doctor's hand and placed it on her own bullet-scarred abdomen.

"... I love you more than my own life."

"Oh, Jane."

The brunette swiped at her tearing eyes with the ragged sleeve of her sweater.

"Maur, I'm so ashamed for letting you be alone for so long when I could see so clearly how you felt, and I did nothing but push aside my own feelings."

"You knew?"

"Yes. Give me some credit. I am a detective."

Maura shifted her head so that her lips rested on Jane's neck. Feeling the steady thrum of her heart was a comfort. Maura let herself relax against the strong, lean body of the taller woman and looked out over her shoulder at the gently rolling ocean and star-filled sky.

"Look, Jane!"

The detective turned without loosening her grip around Maura's waist. What appeared to be a horizontal Christmas tree was slowing moving across the horizon far out on the black water.

"What is it?"

"Most likely a cruise ship out of Boston. Isn't it beautiful?"

"You're beautiful." She kissed the top of the messy head resting below her chin.

"Let's go inside, babe. You're shaking from the cold."

"It's not the cold. I'm nervous."

"You? How do you think I feel? It's like being a virgin all over again."

"The 40-Year-Old Virgin? We saw that movie together, Jane."

"I remember. You even ate a box of Milk Duds and let me put butter on the popcorn."

Maura laughed. "The things I've done for love."

She pulled away and took the detective's hand, leading her through the rippling drapery and to the bed.

"Lie down. I have something that will make you feel good."

Jane swallowed hard.

"Not that, Jane. Just trust me."

Jane slipped out of her clothes and slid quickly beneath the snowy white comforter. The sheets were astonishingly soft against her bare skin. In a moment Maura returned, carrying a basin of warm water. She dipped in a flannel washcloth and pressed it to Jane's sore eyes and then to the muddy scrapes on her cheeks, patting lightly.

"I fought off a gang of blackberry bushes who were trying to keep me from you. I won."

Maura smiled. "I would expect no less from you."

She replaced the cloth with her lips, resting them softly against Jane's eyelids and each side of her face before standing and slipping out of her own clothing. She eased the covers back and lay beside Jane, not touching her. She waited for the other woman to initiate contact.

Jane rolled to her side and reached out a tentative hand, resting it on Maura's abdomen. She ghosted her fingertips back and forth before moving on to the doctor's ribcage and the sides of her breasts.

"Is it okay if I touch you, Maur?" She asked thickly.

"Yes."

She caressed the underside of each breast, moving her long fingers in soft circles and tender strokes up and around the very edges of the doctor's areolas. Maura felt her hesitate a moment before taking her hand away to run back down the center of her torso and out to her hip bones, down the sides of her outer thighs and slowly up the inside, stopping an inch before her groin.

"You're so soft. You feel so good."

Maura remembered the first time she spent the night with a woman and how she had wanted nothing more than to lie for hours and explore by touch that what was both so familiar and yet apart from herself. As much as she wanted to wrap her body around the woman she loved, she knew she should give Jane this time to touch, to feel, to wonder.

Jane bent in and kissed her, lightly, tenderly on the mouth. Only then did she let herself respond with an equally gentle kiss. They moved their lips against each other softly, a dialogue spoken without words, Maura resting her hand on the flare of Jane's hip and Jane continuing her slow exploration of the doctor's yielding skin.

Jane brought her hand up to Maura's face and traced the high cheekbones and straight nose, the slightly parted lips and the corded tendons of her neck. She ran each finger into the dip of her collarbone and then placed her own lips where her fingers had been.

"I've wanted to kiss you there for a long time." She rasped.

"In my sternoclavicular notch? Some people think that's the sexiest place on a woman's body."

"You have so much sexy, I don't think I could pick just one place."

"You don't have to."

"Can I do something without it being… without it leading to anything?"

"I'm yours, Jane. You can do whatever you like."

Jane exhaled softly and began again, running her fingers up Maura's abdomen, around her navel, back up the midline of her torso and under her breasts. This time she allowed her fingers to ghost over hardened nipples, eliciting a sharp inhalation of air. She hesitated and then did it again, touching a few seconds longer, before returning to her previous pattern.

On her next pass over the belly, she trailed her fingers through the soft curls directly below Maura's bikini line.

"I want to make love with you, Maur." Jane whispered, her lips against Maura's jaw.

"You are, Jane, that's exactly what you're doing."

"No. This is just…."

She moved her lips down the smooth white neck and back to the collar bone.

Remembering something else she had wanted to do, she took the doctor's hand in her own and, turning it over, placed a gentle kiss on the inside of the wrist. She inhaled the subtle trace of perfume that Maura had sprayed on her pulse points the previous morning, vanilla and sugar and something spicy. She kissed the satiny skin again. Maura was sweet and delicious, she smelled like a wedding cake and felt like rose petals beneath her fingers.

Maura lay completely still, allowing Jane to run her hands and lips across her body at will. It was wonderful, but she doubted that the other woman fully understood what her caresses were doing to her, touching her just enough to arouse a desire for more and then skittering away to leave her wanting. She longed to run her own hands along Jane's body and kiss all the places she had dreamed about, to glide her hand up the detective's long, defined quadriceps and into her sex to feel if she was as wet as Maura was, to slip inside of her, to taste her, to make her come.

Maura moaned and Jane froze.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, quite the opposite."

"Oh."

Jane rested one hand on the doctor's flat abdomen, fingers gently kneading the pliant skin.

Maura felt her hesitating, trying to make up her mind about something.

"Go ahead, Jane. I'm yours and I want you."

Jane lifted herself off of the bed and gently rested her weight on top of the smaller woman. She sighed softly at the feel of all the silky skin under her and again as she trailed her hand through the damp curls and into the warm wet of Maura's sex. She found the hardened flesh of her swollen clit and circled it slowly with her fingertips.

"Oh, Maur, you feel so good." She groaned against the doctor's lips before slipping her tongue inside and stroking in the other woman's mouth to the same cadence her hand was working below. Maura rolled her hips up against Jane's and Jane followed her rhythm, the harmony of their movements keeping her fingertips from slipping from Maura's clit.

Maura was close; Jane's caresses having brought her very near the threshold of her own climax. She tried to hold back, to adjust her thigh so Jane would have some friction, but it was unstoppable. She felt herself fall over the edge and was caught in the strong arms of the woman she loved.

Jane lay still, her mouth resting against Maura's, breathing in the breath she exhaled, her left hand cupping the doctor's sex. Only when the other woman's breathing returned to normal did she dare move at all and then only to brace some of her weight on her own knees.

She was suffused with happiness, engorged with awe and wonder, heavy with love, afraid that the weight of her love would crush the petite woman beneath her, yet unwilling to separate.

She wanted to roar.

"Maura..." She husked. "I wish..."

She didn't complete the thought out loud.

_I wish I could melt into you like wax from a burning candle until we were one inseparable whole._

_I wish you would crack open my chest so I could pull you into my ribcage and keep you safe always._

"What do you wish, Jane?"

"I can't put it into words, Maur, but the feeling is…."

"Tell me."

"You're mine, Maura, and I'm yours."

"Yes."

She finally rolled gently onto her side, pulling the sweaty blond head against her chest.

"I feel at peace, Maur." She drew the warm, compliant body closer. "Let's get some sleep."

She stroked the soft tresses that were tumbled across her breasts and sternum.

"But, Jane, you didn't…." Maura lifted her head to protest.

"S'okay. I'm good."

The doctor slowly moved her hand from where it was resting on Jane's hipbone, across the hard abdomen and lower into the unruly thatch of Jane's pubic hair.

"Maur, don't."

Maura had to know if Jane was wet. She was.

The detective grabbed her wrist gently, but without hesitation and moved her hand back up to her hip, keeping it secure under her own.

"Please. Just let me hold you."

She rested her lips in Maura's damp hair, breathing in her scent and listening to her breath, trying to time her own to it. Inhale, two, three and exhale, two, three. Repeat.

"Do you remember the first time we slept in the same bed and you asked if I was attracted to you?"

"I was joking, Maura. And you didn't answer."

"I didn't answer because I can't lie. What If I had said 'yes.'"

Jane chuckled. "I think I probably would have run out into the night, even with Hoyt on the loose. But, I guess I'm officially gay now."

Maura lifted her head again, but Jane's face was unreadable in the dark bedroom.

"I don't think you are anything other than what you were before."

There was a long silence while Jane gathered her thoughts, not an easy task for her since her body was still tense with unreleased desire and her mind filled with thoughts of Maura under her and how she had arched and whimpered when she came.

"When I was in the academy, there was one cadet who was openly gay. The guys gave her a real hard time; she'd return to her locker to find it full of open tuna cans and dirty pictures ripped from magazines. Her name was Mary Carpenter, but they all called her Mary Carpetmuncher."

"I hope she reported them."

"No. You don't do that when you're a cop. You get branded a rat and then when you need someone to have your back, your ass is alone and that could easily mean death."

"That's not fair, Jane."

"No. It isn't."

Jane sighed.

"I always knew I wanted to be a cop, ever since I was a kid. Frankie did, too. We'd play at it constantly, arresting Tommy for all kinds of made up crimes. He spent a good part of every summer vacation incarcerated under the dining room table."

"Talk about a self-fulfilling prophesy." Maura mumbled against her chest.

"Yeah, right? I figured maybe if I went to college first I could rise through the ranks quickly because Jane Rizzoli isn't just gonna be a beat cop, she's gonna be a Captain or an Inspector or hell ,why not the freakin' Commissioner?"

"Why not, indeed."

"I didn't go to college. I took some night classes in criminal justice at BHCC, and worked with my pop, killing time until I was old enough to go into the academy. I thought my real life would start once I got into that uniform, you know?"

Maura was quiet. Jane rubbed up and down the length of her spine, the soft scratch of her rough hands soothing.

"The academy was just like high school in that way, maybe worse because the bullies had guns. So..."

"You didn't want to be another Mary Carpenter."

"I was Mary Carpenter all through high school, but alone in my misery. Mary had a girlfriend to come home to. I had no one. Casey was my friend and my brother Frankie, but that was it. I couldn't bear to live high school all over again, to be the butt end of someone's cruel joke for the duration of my career."

"I don't think you would ever have been a joke to Barrold or Vincent or Sean."

"No, of course not, but you saw first hand how those two douches, Crowe and Martinez, treated us. I don't think I could have dealt with that every day for 20 years. I wouldn't be the person I am today if I had to. I wouldn't be a decorated detective. Maybe I'd be a full-blown alcoholic or I'd have eaten my gun."

She frowned in the darkness, frustrated at her inability to put her feelings into words. Maura reached up her hand and cupped her cheek, running a thumb along her prominent cheekbone.

Jane instinctively nuzzled into her palm.

"Why didn't you tell me, Jane?"

"There was nothing to tell. It wasn't like I was sitting at home and crying that I wanted a woman. I'm not some pathetic closet case. I just didn't let myself go there. I worked six days a week to get where I am and hung with my family every Sunday. That's it."

Maura remained quiet, her hand gently tracing the raised scar on Jane's abdomen.

"You learned that trick from me."

"What trick, Jane?"

"Staying quiet to make the other person talk more."

"Probably. You've taught me a lot."

"Maura, I think I've always known on some level, but I don't dwell on my feelings. I'm a doer, not a thinker and…"

"Yes?"

"I've never been in love before. Maybe if I had met someone years ago, things would be different."

"Met a woman, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Jane, what happened to Mary Carpenter?"

"She did her twenty and retired. I hope she's lying on a beach somewhere warm with a beautiful woman next to her."

"Me too."

Jane pulled her closer.

"I have a beautiful woman next to me now, that's all that matters."

"As do I."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: This is another very mature chapter. Be warned, ye prudes.**

* * *

Maura was the ﬁrst to wake as usual. She had conditioned herself to do so in order to have a few moments alone with a sleeping Jane. She would spend the time tenderly stroking the detective's hair or running her soft ﬁngers down the muscles of her back, pressing in as close as she dared to inhale the natural scent of the woman she loved.

Now that she no longer had to hide her desire, she gazed with unabashed admiration, traced the ripple and curve of Jane's prominent deltoids and rhomboids, obliques and sartorius; the woman was a living anatomy lesson. She moved in closer and sniffed at the nape of Jane's neck, trailing kisses across her shoulders and down her biceps, she poked her nose under Jane's arm and breathed deeply.

Jane pulled a hand from under the blanket and clumsily swatted behind her. "Jo, go back to sleep, it tickles." She muttered.

Maura reached under the covers and ran her hands down bare ﬂanks and over the slight curve of Jane's hip.

"It's not Jo." She whispered in her ear, impulsively nipping the lobe.

"It must be Jo." Jane murmured. "Because no genius doctor would ever stick her snout in my armpit after the day I had yesterday."

Maura ﬁt herself even closer into Jane's back, pleased with the effect she was having on the now wide awake detective, who had shuddered and moaned at the increased contact. She continued to run her ﬁngers lazily up and down Jane's long torso, circling her navel and following the dips and ridges of her abdominal muscles, but stopping just shy of her breasts. After a moment she wrapped one leg around Jane's thighs and rolled her onto her back, quickly straddling her.

She looked down into the detective's wide and terriﬁed eyes.

"Maur, are we going to do it now?" She gasped.

Maura tilted her head and looked appraisingly at the ﬂushed woman beneath her. She took account of her dilated pupils, the rate of her respiration and pulse, the temperature of her skin and the tension of her facial muscles.

_Aroused. She decided._

_Aroused but afraid, even after last night._

She slid down and rested her head on Jane's chest, closing her eyes in an effort to get her own desire under control.

Jane wrapped an arm around her back and kissed her forehead.

"I love you, Maura, and I want to love you completely. I will let you love me, but I..."

"You've never done this before." Maura ﬁnished her sentence.

"No, I haven't."

"And you don't know what to do." Maura added quietly.

Jane made a dismissive noise. "I'm sure I know what to do, Maur. I wasn't born under a rock."

The doctor lifted her head and gave Jane her typical "clueless Maura" look: head tilted, eyebrows drawn together.

"Jane!" She sputtered. "What could not growing up in Iraq possibly have to do with performing cunnilingus?"

The detective laughed until she coughed.

"Nothing, my love, nothing at all." She ﬁnally got out between giggles and chokes.

"C'mere, baby."

She pulled the smaller woman back on top of her, hissing in pain as her weight rested on a badly bruised thigh and then again in astonishment at the wetness left behind.

"Am I too heavy, Jane?"

"No. I'm just sore from my fall last night."

The doctor immediately shifted off of her and pulled the blankets back.

"Let me see. Oh, Jane, that's bad. We should have put ice on it last night. Let me go get some now."

"No, it's ﬁne. It matches my face. Come back here. I'm cold when you leave me."

Maura reluctantly put an end to her ministrations, but took an extra moment to admire the naked form before her. Last night they had undressed in the dark and quickly slid beneath the blankets, both eager for the comfort of warm skin. She had seen very little of the lean detective in the weak moonlight that ﬁltered into her bedroom. Now she gazed intently, her mind integrating what her hands felt with the image before her eyes. She conjured up Jane's peppery scent, the rough feel of her calloused hands and the raspy rumble of her voice, the sweet weight of her body on top of her own as she brought her to climax. It was an almost complete picture of her beloved as experienced through four of her ﬁve senses. She had only to taste her to make it complete. She licked her lips and felt her nipples go hard at the thought.

"Maura!"

The doctor pulled her gaze back up to Jane's blushing cheeks.

"Sorry, I just wanted to see all of you."

"You look almost predatory."

"I do feel a bit wolﬁsh, I must admit."

She reached down and ran her ﬁngers across the feather-light down on Jane's arm, watching the small hairs rise under her touch. When she reached Jane's hand, she laced their ﬁngers together.

"Jane, don't you want to look at me?"

"Of course I do."

Yet the detective's gaze remained ﬁxed on their linked hands, stealing only an occasional glance through her long dark eyelashes and then only of the doctor's face.

"I'm yours, Jane. Look at me."

She released her hand and took a small step back away from the bed and into the direct sunlight of early morning.

Jane closed her eyes tightly and took in a large breath of sea-tinged air before exhaling and turning toward the sun.

"Oh." She gasped.

Maura's ﬂawless skin glowed in the morning light, all of one piece, unmarred. Jane reconciled it to how the woman felt beneath her ﬁngers, gently sueded like the softest ivory silk. Her breasts hung full and heavy above her ribcage, each kissed with a small rosy nipple resting on the lighter shell pink of her areola. Jane forced her gaze down, away from the loveliest of breasts, where she could have rested her happy eyes all day. She took in the soft curve of creamy belly and beneath it, a neat thatch of light brown curls, glistening with dewy moisture at the apex of her thighs.

"Oh...," she said again, softer.

"I'm yours, Jane."

The detective sat up and reached out her arms, pulling the other woman toward her by the hips. She rubbed her thumbs along the velvety skin covering the hipbones and up the smooth torso, under the supple weight of breast and ﬁnally onto the hardened nipples. Her touch was still gentle, but less hesitant than the night before and Maura's thighs quivered as the pleasure from Jane's ﬁngers ran down her nerves and throbbed in her clit.

Jane traced around the satiny edges of Maura's nipples and gasped in wonder as the ﬂesh drew up into itself, growing ever more swollen under her touch. She was amazed at the way her own desire translated through the barest brush of her ﬁngers and manifested itself on the other woman's body. She cradled the weight of Maura's breasts in her two hands, entranced by the warm heft of them against her palms. She brieﬂy thought of her own small breasts and the male hands that had squeezed and poked at them in pitiful attempts at foreplay. She would treat Maura's breasts with reverence because they were magniﬁcent and because they were Maura's.

She rested her chapped lips against the ivory skin just outside of the areola and closed her eyes. How could anyone be so soft. She looked up into Maura's face; she was smiling serenely, the morning sunlight behind her haloing her light hair.

She moved her mouth to the tip of one pink nipple and kissed it gently.

"_Tesoro, ti voglio un mondo di bene_." Jane whispered, her voice was thick and low like smoke trapped in honey.

"Jane... " Maura groaned.

Pulling the doctor closer, she took one blush bud in her mouth as if to warm it, shelter it from the chill of the early morning bedroom. She caressed the other as tenderly as her calloused thumb would allow.

Her reluctant mouth left the now hardened point and Jane once again ran her hands down the smooth expanse of the doctor's ﬂanks, around her hips and onto her ﬁrm, round buttocks, her mouth nuzzling the soft ﬂesh above her navel.

Maura was breathing strangely now, taking in small tremulous sips of air and exhaling hard in a whimper. She telegraphed her need through every pore of her body, her skin was ﬂushed and lustrous with sweat and the mere skim of Jane's hand brought gooseﬂesh in its wake. Like the night before, she waited for Jane to take the lead, though she trembled with arousal and every cell in her body fought against the passivity.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, with the standing doctor resting against her, Jane took one nipple in her mouth and swirled her tongue around the ﬁrm tip. She shifted her left hand around the curve of Maura's hip and into the warm slickness of her sex. She grazed the swollen clit once, twice, eliciting a soft mewl and then entered Maura, ﬁrst with two ﬁngers and then after a few strokes, with three. She was engulfed in the warmth of the other woman, astounded by the heat of her sex, enveloped, enfolded, fused and united with her.

She moved her ﬁngers slowly, turning her hand and exploring each striation of muscle, the ridges and landmarks barely discernible under the wet slick. She listened and timed her strokes to Maura's breathing and half-moaned encouragements.

"Yes. There."

Maura was grinding against Jane's hand, looking for the friction on her inﬂamed clit that would take her over the edge and only hitting it just enough to keep her wanting more.

Jane sensed the need and wrapping her right arm around the doctor's waist, she lifted the smaller woman off of her feet and rolled her onto the bed, still inside her. She quickly scanned the doctor's face, her eyes were half shut, irises a dark gold and glazed with want.

She shifted her head down the creamy white skin of Maura's belly and with a growl of dominion, buried her face in the soaked curls, inhaling the heady aroma of her essence. She suckled the drenched hairs, greedy for every drop of Maura. Nothing of this woman should go to waste, and when satisﬁed she had drunk in all, she entered the folds with her tongue.

"Yessssss." Maura hissed as Jane's rough tongue made contact with her clit.

She ﬂicked hard against the engorged knot, setting a steady rhythm with her hand.

Maura was purring now and her hands moved through Jane's hair and against her scalp.

Jane felt a small ﬂutter and then the ﬁrm and steady pulse of Maura's contracting muscles as she came hard against her hand and mouth.

"Jane." She panted. "Jane. All for you."

She stayed inside, moving more slowly against the wet walls that were squeezing and pulling her deeper in. She licked at the inner folds of Maura's sex, tasting the new, thinner sap that oozed from between her ﬁngers and Maura's opening.

When the last spasm died away, she slowly withdrew her ﬁngers, but kept her lips in place, softly kissing every part of Maura's sex. When her lips hit her hypersensitive clit, the doctor's hips bucked off of the bed.

"No more, Jane." She pleaded, pulling the larger woman up the length of her body until they were lying face to face.

"I told you I knew what to do." Jane grinned, but her eyes were shy.

Maura grabbed her face and pulled her close. She kissed Jane's wet cheeks and sucked on her lips, tasting herself everywhere.

"You have the instincts of a tigress, Jane, and you spoke to me in Italian; that's very sexy."

"My grandpop used to whisper sweet nothings to my nonna. I remember a few of them, but I don't speak ﬂuently at all. I can talk about food and love... _carina_."

"The two most important things. _Brava, Jane, la mia bella lupa_."

Maura nipped at her nose and lay back, sighing contentedly. Jane took her hand, holding it over her heart. She could bathe in Maura, soak her up like a sponge, steep in her, drink deeply of her and remain thirsty, feast on her and never get enough. The heart under Maura's hand was bursting with poetry, words that died before they made it off of Jane's thick tongue.

They lay in a contented silence, Jane's emotions oscillating between pride that she was able to please Maura and fear about what was to happen next.

"I felt it, Maur."

"Hmmm."

"I felt you come."

"Yes."

Jane rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

She rolled back on her side and kissed Maura's neck and shoulder, the dip in her collarbone that was becoming one of her favorite spots. She followed a scattering of freckles down the center of her chest until her lips rested between the doctor's soft breasts.

"I love you, Maura Isles, all of you, inside and out." She looked up with a grin. "I can say that with absolute certainty now that I have been inside."

Maura laughed. "Yes, you have. And now I will have my turn."

Jane tensed.

"What is it, Jane? I'm your best friend and your lover. Please don't shut me out."

_My lover._

The word sounded odd, like it should only be used to describe the star-crossed couple in a foreign ﬁlm, not herself and Maura.

"Jane?"

Jane forced herself to look into the concerned hazel eyes.

"Don't hide from me, Jane."

" I never want to lie to you and I never want to hurt you."

Maura pulled her closer, resting her hands on the dip in Jane's lower back where her gluteus bloomed out from the ridge of her spine.

"I haven't had a lot of sex, Maur, but every single time I faked it. I don't want to... I won't do that with you, not just because you'd know, but..."

"Oh, Jane..."

She continued, she had to get it out.

"If it doesn't happen, and it probably won't, I don't want you to think that I don't want you, because I do."

"Jane, are you able to reach orgasm by yourself?"

"Um, yeah."

She peered up at Maura through her lashes and saw the doctor was smiling.

"Then there is nothing medically wrong with you. Do you think that maybe your inability to climax was because you were a lesbian having sex with men?"

_A lesbian. Yes. There's no doubt about that now after what I just did to Maura._

Jane shrugged.

"How could they not know? It was so, so... obvious. You even tasted different after."

She blushed.

"Maybe..." The doctor caught Jane's lips with her own, immediately deepening the kiss, reveling in her own taste on her lover's tongue. "Maybe they've never seen the real thing."

Jane kiss back hard, her tongue sliding around Maura's and stroking it ﬁrmly reminded her of where her mouth had been only minutes before and she felt herself grow wet again. She knew that if she had a hand to spare, she could have made herself climax along with the doctor. Maybe she should have, because Maura's tongue was no longer in her mouth, but on her neck and moving slowly downward.

"Babe, please, just give me a minute."

She quickly kissed the mussed blond head resting on her collarbone and pulled away, sitting back on the edge of the bed.

"I need a shower, Maur. If we are going to do this... If you're going to do..." Jane made a vague gesture toward her lap.

"I want to make sure that I'm good and clean. I should probably douche, too."

"What?"

Maura's face was a mask of disgust, her nose wrinkled and upper lip curled.

"You don't actually do that, Jane? Please tell me this is one of your crude jokes that I don't understand."

"Of course I do, or at least I try to if I know I'm going to, um, be intimate."

"No. Never do that. Ever. The vagina is a self-cleaning organism. The Ph and bacterial ﬂora are speciﬁcally balanced to ward off infection. In fact the lactobacilli, particularly lactobacillus crispatus at the optimal Ph of between 3.5 and 4.5 produce both narrow and broad-spectrum antimicrobial peptides. Douching raises the Ph and causes an overgrowth of candida albicans, gardnerella vaginalis, peptostreptococcus aureus and anaerobius, escherichia coli..."

Jane placed her hand over the doctor's mouth. "Stop, Maura. Eww."

When she moved her hand, the M.E. continued.

"That's also why it is so important to have pubic hair. It's there for a reason; it protects the bacteria in your mucus membranes from invasion by external and potentially harmful bacterial and viral invaders."

She smiled broadly at the detective who gave her a wan look before hiding her face in her hands.

"Jane?"

She looked up.

"Babe, I'm really glad that you don't have a Barbie doll crotch; it makes me feel less like a hairy Godzilla, but I wish it was a fashion choice and not to make a cozy nest for the creatures living in your mucus membranes."

Maura tilted her head quizzically.

"Isn't Godzilla a giant reptile? Only mammals have pubic hair, Jane."

Jane laughed loudly and grabbed the doctor in a tight embrace. She planted a long, wet kiss on her temple before releasing her.

"This is why I love you. No one else in the world thinks the way you do. You are one of a kind, Maura Isles, and you are all mine."

She kissed her again and rose from the bed.

"Now I am going to take a shower."

"Wait."

Maura grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the bed.

"I need to shower, Maur. I will be much more comfortable if I'm clean and I need to feel comfortable and relaxed in order to, um, let you do what you want to do. So why don't you trot downstairs and put on a pot of coffee, maybe make me a bowl of that repulsive cereal you buy that tastes like cardboard and cactus needles. We'll have a light breakfast and then we can take a nap later."

"A nap?"

The doctor looked disappointed.

"A nap." Jane reiterated, this time with a wink.

"Oh. That was a euphemism."

Jane lay back against the pillow for a moment, turned her head and kissed a warm, freckled shoulder, the skin softer than her own lips.

"I promise, Maura. "

They lay quietly for a moment, lightly holding hands.

"I think you went on a hero's journey last night, Jane. You faced obstacles, traveled across water, were injured, wrestled your demons and returned changed. It's a classic iteration of the monomyth."

"And I got the girl." Jane squeezed her hand tightly.

"You always had the girl."

* * *

Jane limped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She glanced at her reﬂection and gasped aloud.

"Fuck! I look like one of those troll dolls."

Speciﬁcally the one that she had back in junior high school and kept at the bottom of her bookbag where it collected pencil shavings, crumbs, bubblegum and other various detritus of preteen life in its already woolly hair.

She reached up and pulled out a burr that Maura had overlooked the night before.

_I can't believe Maura would want to hit this_.

She looked down at her bruised and scarred body, her neglected, overgrown pubic hair, and her ragged cuticles on bitten down fingernails and frowned. It was going to happen today and Jane would just have to do the best with what she had. She turned on the weak shower as hot as it would go and stepped in.

There was a ﬁrm knock on the door followed by Maura's head.

"Jane, don't you dare put any cleaning products into your vagina. I'll know if you do."

She was gone, closing the door with a soft click, leaving Jane laughing under the tepid spray.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** Mature things happen ahead, just so you know...

Thank you all for continuing with me despite the rating change. It's been nearly 2 months now since I began this tale and I certainly didn't anticipate that it would grow so long and that I would enjoy writing as much as I do.

There are a few of you who give me a shout out on a regular basis and I want to let you know how much that means to me.

A few questions that have come up- not sure how long this will be, maybe 40 chapters, maybe a little less. I know who my killers are, but not how to round them up...still working on that. Angst?...meh, we'll see. Casey? No, he won't reappear. Hope? Don't like her character, going to pretend she doesn't exist. No, not in college, I'm a grown-ass woman as Jane would say. Yes, I do have a twitter account, but use it basically to read other people's humorous comments about R&I. You can friend/follow me there, but I'm pretty much a Tweeting dud: sybiliagrogan. No, not my real name.

Thanks again, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Jane ran a wide-toothed comb through her damp locks. It went through without a single snare. Maura's $200 conditioner really did work miracles. It was probably made from some exotic fruit picked by Buddhist nuns in the Himalayas while they chanted during the full moon. If Jane had used her own store-brand product, she would be picking out knots for an hour.

She felt much better, clean, relatively pain free and happy. Happy was a new feeling for Jane Rizzoli. She had experienced the emotion in brief, searing bursts; when she made a good arrest or when the Patriots won the Super Bowl, but this was different. She wrapped herself in a white plush towel and sat on the edge of the tub to think.

She was already making plans for their future; mentally cashing in her vacation weeks accumulated over a dozen lonely years to travel with the M.E., planning a long weekend in New York with surprise tickets to the Metropolitan Opera, looking past these ass-biting cases to when they could both call in sick and spend the day in bed making love and eating French toast. The thought of licking maple syrup off of Maura's erect nipples made her very happy.

That was the difference, she realized, this happiness was not a quick punch of adrenalin to the heart that would spike and then quickly wane. This would carry over to the future and grow exponentially, maybe forever.

Maura loved her. Maura wanted her. It wasn't weird. It wasn't strange. It was the best thing that had ever happened to Jane Rizzoli in her sad, solitary life. She stood and dropped the towel, vowing to love Maura Isles fiercely and singularly to the best of her ability and beyond.

She swaggered out of the bathroom and dug through a drawer of old clothes she had left at the Isles cottage over the years. She knew exactly what she was looking for and she grinned when she found it under a pair of BPD sweats. The faded black t-shirt featured the Rolling Stones logo with Mick Jagger's fleshy lips and protruding tongue. She wondered if Maura would understand her signal; probably not, but it would amuse Jane nonetheless. She slipped the soft, worn cotton over her bare skin and pulled on a pair of jeans, no underwear, and practically skipped to the staircase.

Midway down she caught the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen, Maura's slightly goofy giggle and another deeper chuckle. She paused and listened, a female voice. Mrs. Knutsen?

Damn, this was their last day and she didn't want to spend it making small talk in the kitchen with some busybody neighbor. She didn't want to spend it in the kitchen at all. She wanted to grab the doctor, throw her over her shoulder and race back up the stairs to the bedroom. She put on her best intimidating cop face and stomped down the last four steps and across the hallway into the bright sunlit room.

Maura's back was to her, damp hair hanging in soft honey-caramel waves down the satiny back of her bathrobe. She must have showered in the downstairs bathroom, which explained the worse than usual water pressure upstairs. The lilac robe barely covered her curvy buttocks and left a stretch of creamy thigh and toned calf on view. Her interlocutor was certainly getting an eyeful, glancing appreciatively from the doctor's bare legs to her generous cleavage, only occasionally meeting her gaze as she spoke.

Jane's detective's eye took in the short masculine haircut, police uniform and a bouquet of wildflowers that were not there yesterday and came to a quick conclusion.

She crossed the room in three long strides and wrapped a possessive arm around the doctor's shoulders. Maura turned to her and smiled, deep dimples studding both cheeks.

"Jane, this is..."

The other woman jumped up and extended her hand.

"Big Carl. Nice to meet you."

Jane took the smaller hand in her own and squeezed as hard as her damaged hand could bear. "I'm Big Jane, Maura's girlfriend."

The small police officer laughed.

"Well, I see that your nickname actually suits you. I guess I'll be on my way. If you two need a ride to the ferry, please call. I have no plans for the day, would be glad to drop you."

With a last, and to Jane's mind, longing, look at the doctor's chest, she turned and left the kitchen. Jane showed her out to the porch, shutting and locking the door behind her. When she returned to the kitchen, Maura was rinsing a mug in the sink. She stood behind her and wrapped a strong arm around her waist.

"You're all mine, Dr. Isles."

She ran her lips along the doctor's neck, kissing and nipping her way to her jaw and finally her mouth where she sucked hard and thrust her tongue deep, possessively staking her claim on the inside of Maura's lips, under her tongue and across her palate.

Maura moaned into her mouth.

"I think I like jealous Jane."

"Good. You'll probably be seeing a lot of her."

"Are you hungry?"

"I think I will pass on the muesli and go straight to dessert."

Jane waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"No muesli today. Officer Timmons brought me some fresh cranberries and I whipped up some muffins. They should be ready."

"Timmons?" Jane laughed.

"What a small world. Her father brought me across the Sound last night."

She instantly regretted her brusque treatment of the friendly woman. She sat heavily at the table and brooded, arms crossed over her chest. Maura brought a steaming hot muffin on a plate topped with a pat of butter and a large mug of black coffee.

"Eat your breakfast, Jane. You'll need to keep your strength up for our nap."

"And what about your strength?"

"I had a small bowl of muesli. I don't want to ruin my appetite for later."

She attempted a wink that looked more like someone had poked her in the eye.

* * *

Maura rested an appraising hand on Jane's cheek.

"Now that you're all pink and scrubbed clean, I think it's a good time to remove your stitches."

"Okay, but could you remove them the same way you put them in? You know, sitting in my lap with your boobies pressed against my chest."

"My boobies?"

Jane blushed.

"Sorry, I'm giddy today. I feel like I'm a teenager again and that's what I called them when I was 14."

"Sit, detective."

The doctor put on a mock stern expression as she readied supplies pulled from her leather medical satchel; an alcohol swab, a hermetically sealed set of tweezers, a pair of blue latex gloves. When she was certain she had everything she needed, she turned to the nervous brunette on the sofa and in one graceful move straddled her lap.

"How's that?"

"I think you were closer last time."

Maura shifted her weight forward as far as she could until her pelvis rested against Jane's abdomen.

"Like this?"

"Mmm-hmm. Now the boobies, please."

She leaned in, pressing her breasts to Jane's sternum, eliciting a contented sigh.

"Your breath is much sweeter this time, Detective Rizzoli."

She leaned in for a quick kiss, just darting her tongue through Jane's parted lips.

"You taste like cranberry muffins. Did you like them? I'm not the baker that your mother is."

"I'll eat your muffin any day, Dr. Isles."

Jane leered up at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Wait. You're talking about my vagina."

"Yes. That was a fufinism."

"Euphemism."

She leaned in again and swiped Jane's chin with an alcohol pad.

"Do you want a shot or can you bear the pain? It shouldn't hurt nearly as bad as putting them in."

"I can bear anything with you on my lap, but you have to use a different word. Vagina is so... gynecological. It doesn't do your's justice."

"The English language, though it has the largest vocabulary, is sorely lacking in a literary erotic dialect. When we want to discuss intimate matters we are forced to choose between the clinical and the crass."

She leaned in again and plucked with her right hand at Jane's chin, coming away with a black snippet of surgical thread.

"You taste like..." Jane tried to imagine the best thing ever and came up with, "Christmas, so that's what I'm going to call it."

Maura laughed into her hair and then whispered, her wet lips against Jane's ear. "There will be no more Christmas for you until I get to open my present."

Jane kissed her throat, running her tongue down to the top of her cleavage and back up. She nipped the doctor's chin playfully.

"Hey, Maur, what do you think of my shirt."

Maura looked down and just as quickly returned her puzzled gaze to Jane's dark eyes. "That's a real non sequitur, Jane."

"No really, what do you think?"

The doctor looked down again.

"I don't find anything fashionable about a rock t-shirt, though I suppose it's all right to wear around the house."

Jane smirked.

"What about the logo, Maur? Do you like it?"

Maura pulled back and looked carefully at the faded and stained shirt.

"The Rolling Stones U.S. Tour '78." She read.

She drew her brows together and shrugged.

"Are you asking me to a rock concert, Jane?"

"Uh, no. But If the Stones tour again before they all drop dead, I'd be glad to take you. The logo, Maur. Look at the logo."

"Yes, Jane. I've seen it before. In fact I knew a woman who had that tattooed on her hipbone."

Jane raised one eyebrow.

"Oh really? How well did you know her?"

The doctor blushed. Jane kissed her pink forehead.

"S'okay, babe. I think I realize that I'm not your first female lover. In fact, my mother told me as much. She's very observant, you know."

Maura grinned.

"My mother told me you were a big one."

"A big one?" Jane sputtered. "Yeah, I guess I am. I certainly have gained a new respect for Constance this weekend."

She hugged the woman on her lap tightly.

"I was trying to give you a subtle hint that I was ready for your lips and tongue." She mumbled into the doctor's hair.

"Oh Jane, I don't usually pick up subtle. You're always best being direct with me."

She looked earnestly into the detective's eyes.

"You think? How's this; Maura Isles, would you like to join me in the master bedroom where you can put any part of your body, especially your lips and tongue, on any part of my body?"

"Yes. I would like that very much."

* * *

"How do you want me, Maur?"

Jane stood in front of the big captain's bed, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"You're over thinking this, Jane. Just sit, relax."

She sat next to the brunette, wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and took her hand.

"Do you know when I first realized I loved you?"

"No."

"It was the first Christmas that I worked for the BPD. I didn't know anyone, really. I never left the morgue other than to visit scenes. No one spoke to me, not even a good morning, no one invited me out after work. I think they all thought I was a cold bitch."

"Assholes." Jane muttered. "I always said hello."

"You were the only one, even Detective Korsak kept his distance. I was so lonely, Jane. I worked all day and went home to Bass. Some days the only voice I heard was my own, dictating notes during an autopsy."

"Oh, babe." Jane kissed the top of her head.

"You made my day every time I saw you, Jane. I looked for you at crime scenes, hoping you were assigned to my case. Part of it was, of course, that I was physically attracted to you, but also you spoke to me like a person. You saw me, not just the Medical Examiner. You teased me, tried to make me laugh. No one ever did that."

Jane kissed her cheek.

"So that first Christmas, my mother was in Switzerland and I had no place to go, no one to spend the holidays with. I couldn't ask for a week off as I was so new to the job. I was sitting in my office going over the same files for the third time because I didn't want to go home. You burst into the lab shouting, 'Hey Poindexter, you're missing the party.' No one had invited me, though I knew everyone was meeting at the Dirty Robber."

"I'm sure I invited you." Jane mumbled.

"Doesn't matter. You left your friends to come look for me and dragged me into the bar. You sat with me all night, talked to me and made me feel like one of the group. After that night Vincent and Sean and a few of the others began to say hello, this was before Barrold came to homicide."

"I remember. I think I took you home that night, too."

"You did, I had a bit too much wine. I didn't want you to come in because you would see that I had no tree, no stockings above the mantel, no presents. I was ashamed."

Jane hugged her tighter, her eyes tearing.

"But, being Jane Rizzoli, you barged right in, demanding wire coat hangers of all things!"

Jane smiled softly at the memory.

"I made us a fire and we roasted marshmallows on the straightened coat hangers."

"Yes and you made those appalling drinks that you called 'snowshoes,' hot chocolate and Jägermeister."

"They're supposed to be made with peppermint Schnapps, but you didn't have any. I improvised."

"I sat with you in front of the fireplace thinking that this is what some people have every day, a partner, a friend. I fell in love with you that night, Jane."

"That was the start of our friendship, but I'm sure I must have loved you even before that. I made a pest of myself, followed you around like a love-sick puppy for months. I couldn't imagine that someone so smart and elegant would want to spend time with me, but you were always so patient and kind, Maur. It took years for me to accept that I wanted more than just your friendship. That I..."

Maura kissed her then, unable to wait another moment before feeling Jane's mouth against her own. They were both crying again and Jane moved her lips off of the doctor's to catch a stray tear on her tongue.

"No more tears, babe. Only good from here on. Okay?"

"Okay, Jane."

She lay back on the bed, pulling the detective alongside her. They lay for a long time, each lost in her own thoughts, foreheads touching, arms around the other's waist. Finally Maura ran her hand up under the black t-shirt that lay bunched and wrinkled above the waistband of Jane's jeans. She lay her palm flat against the warm architecture of firm abdominal muscles, feeling the detective breathe, her strong diaphragm expanding and contracting under her fingers. She slowly moved her fingers until the rougher texture of Jane's scar lay under her hand.

"Did you really intend to die for me?"

Jane sighed. "It was instinctual, Maura. My instinct is always to protect you and if that meant dying, yes I would have died for you."

Maura shifted so she was kneeling next to the detective, her hands still on her abdomen. In one smooth motion, she slipped her hands up Jane's torso, lifting the t-shirt up and over her head. She slid back down, resting her head on the bare skin of Jane's shoulder. She grazed her fingertips across a lean flank and onto the softer skin at the side of Jane's breast. Very slowly she moved the hand inward until her palm hovered over and then rested upon Jane's breast. She blew softly onto the other nipple, watching from the side as it stiffened and grew under her breath.

"I spent hours thinking about your breasts, how they would feel under my hands, what color your nipples would be, how hard they would grow in my mouth."

Jane groaned as Maura lifted her head and took the cocoa point into her mouth. She alternated stroking it firmly with her tongue and sucking it gently between her full lips.

"Oh, Maura, your mouth is so hot." Jane felt a fire spreading under her skin, ignited by the doctor's mouth.

"My mouth is just as warm as it should be, 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit." She removed her lips and blew on the hardened tip.

"Better?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." Jane panted.

Maura replaced her mouth with her thumb and forefinger and moved her lips, trailing wet kisses across Jane's sternum to her other breast. Here she worked inward from the swollen tan areola, flicking her tongue in a circle at its edges and pulling at the tender flesh with her teeth. Jane seemed to like this; her arms that had lain rigid at her sides were now wrapped around Maura's hips and she was kneading the flesh of her lower back. Maura took the entire end of the breast into her mouth sucking hard and slowly releasing, raking the tight bud with her teeth.

"Take this off." Jane husked. "I need to feel you against me."

She pulled at Maura's silky camisole with clumsy hands. Maura swatted them away and in a single easy movement, lifted it over her head and straddled Jane's hips. She leaned over the detective, her own heavy breasts hanging just an inch above Jane's. With a rush of breath, she lowered herself until their breasts were just touching, her own stiff nipples caressing Jane's.

The detective's eyes shot open, her irises impossibly dark, all pupil. "So good, Maur."

The doctor lowered herself fully, resting her entire weight against the woman under her. She grasped Jane's sweaty head and pulled her in for a deep kiss, their tongues sliding hotly against each other. The detective was grinding up against her pelvis in time with the strong strokes of her tongue.

"Take your pants off, Jane."

Jane never hated button-fly jeans more, her shaking fingers kept missing the holes. She growled, wanting the offending garment off and Maura back on top of her. The doctor stood in a half-squat, shimmying her lacy lilac panties down her thighs.

"Help, Maura." She finally whined.

"Do your hands hurt? Are they stiff?" She reached out and clasped Jane's hands in her own, prepared to rub the sore away.

"Maura! My hands are the last part of my body that I'm thinking about. Just..."

She gestured pitifully at her fly. In ten seconds the Levi's lay on the bedroom floor and Maura had once again lowered herself onto Jane's long torso.

Reaching under the detective's muscled thigh, she lifted her leg to move their pelvises closer. She ground down against Jane and Jane arched up to meet her. Maura could feel Jane's clit against her own through in the slick between them and she knew she could reach a hand down and finish it for both of them in under 30 seconds. Jane was sweating, her eyes tightly shut, mouth loose, her breathing ragged; she was close. So was Maura, but she wanted so badly for Jane to come in her mouth. She dropped Jane's leg and pulled away with a whimper.

"Maur, don't stop, baby."

This wasn't about her, though, this was about Jane. She quickly slid her hand up Jane's wet thigh and entered her, working a thumb against her clit. She set a new rhythm, stroking deep in Jane as she ground down hard on her hipbone.

Jane's eyelids fluttered and then she arched up hard against Maura, her muscles rigid for a split second before her release. As she felt Jane clench against her hand, she let herself go, tumbling over the edge and collapsing in a sweaty mass of limbs on top of the spent detective.

"I come so hard with you, Jane." She whispered into the black tresses.

Jane growled, a rumbling howl of animal joy. "My first time other than by myself."

"I told you there was nothing wrong with you."

"And I should have believed you. You're always right."

She rolled over onto her side, pulling the doctor against her back.

"Hold me, Maur."

Maura molded herself to Jane's back, resting her face under the dark curtain of the detective's hair. Jane took her hand, lacing their fingers together and pulled it up to rest between her breasts.

"I love your breasts."

Jane scoffed. "Please. There's nothing special about these."

"They're lovely, Jane, high and firm."

Maura freed her hand to run her fingertips along the soft skin and pliant curves of Jane's chest. "Are you trying to get me going again, Doctor?"

"Of course. I'm not done with you yet. I want to kiss every inch of you."

"That's a lot of inches; I'm very tall."

"Mmm-hmm."

Maura's nose was behind her ear, sniffing and nuzzling, working her way down the back of her neck. Jane rolled onto her belly, melting into the mattress, her knee bent up in a posture of extreme tranquility.

"Cervical one." The doctor mumbled, kissing the back of Jane's sweaty neck. "Two, three, four." She punctuated each vertebra with a warm, wet kiss.

"Seven." She sucked the skin at the base of Jane's neck, her fingers kneading the relaxed muscles running between the detective's sharp shoulder blades.

"I feel like I'm made of rubber and jelly." Jane mumbled into her pillow.

"Thoracic one, two, three." Maura's tongue had replaced her fingers, articulating the hills and valleys along the prominent spine.

"T-ten, eleven, twelve." Maura shifted down the bed, her mouth still working against Jane's skin.

"Lumbar one, two, three, four." She stopped briefly where Jane's waist narrowed to caress the underside of the lowest delicate rib, tracing it as far as she could until it disappeared between Jane and the soft mattress.

"Ah, the sacrum. The ancients believed this was the seat of the soul, so it shares the same root as 'sacred.'"

"They thought our souls lived in our asses?" Jane muttered into her pillow.

"No. In the sacrum, the wedge-shaped bone that nestles between the hips and protects the progenerative organs."

Maura ran one finger between Jane's muscular buttocks. The detective flinched.

Maura bent her head and kissed the small dip in each cheek.

"You have dimples on your ass, Jane. Very sexy."

"And finally the coccyx." She ran her tongue along the same path her finger had previously tread.

Jane jumped.

"Maura, what are you doing?"

"Kissing your tailbone. Humans used to have tails, you know. We still have the vestigial remains of those appendages."

"Yeah? What did they look like?"

"I... I don't know. It depends on what point in evolution we are talking about."

"Something you don't know, huh? If I had a tail, I bet it would be a long skinny sad thing with a bandaid on the end, like Eeyore's bow."

Jane raised herself onto her elbows, warming to the topic.

"You would have a beautiful, golden brush like a Husky or a fox. I can picture it now, swishing behind you, nestled in a custom hole you would have sewn into all of your designer clothes."

Maura laughed, laying her head at the small of the detective's back. She trailed her fingertips down the smooth skin of Jane's ass, down the backs of her thighs, causing her hamstrings to tighten and relax, and back up between her buttocks.

"I think you would have a glorious black horsetail, Jane, soft and thick like the mane on your head and you would carry it high and proud."

She adjusted her path so she was now scratching up the inside of Jane's thighs, moving closer to her sex with every pass. Jane sighed and lowered her torso back onto the mattress. Maura knew she was ready when her legs parted almost imperceptibly as her hand approached. She teased another moment and then parted the detective's swollen lips and let her fingers just ghost over her clit.

"You want me to turn over, Maur?"

Maura smiled.

_Eager._

"Not just yet."

She grazed through the wet folds once more before bending close and entering Jane with her tongue. She circled the hot slick opening, pushing in as far as she could and then retreating to gently lap at her entrance.

"Oh, Maur..." Jane groaned into the pillowcase.

With a final deep thrust, she pulled her damp face from Jane's vagina and trailed her tongue up between firm buttocks.

"Maur?"

"Hush, Jane. Relax. The anus has triple the nerve endings of the vagina, many of which culminate directly in the clitoris. Trust me, Jane, I know my anatomy."

The detective had covered her face with her hands, but nodded.

Maura reached back with her tongue into the dewy depths of Jane's vagina and once again tracked upward, drawing the natural lubrication of the brunette's sex on her tongue. She circled the pink corona of muscle, teasing the edges with quick darts toward the center until the tense tissue softened and she was able to slip the tip of her tongue inside.

Jane had uncovered her face and was lying prone hugging her pillow, mouth slack. A moan escaped her parted lips and she quickly covered her traitor mouth. When Maura slipped her fingers once again between her legs, skimming her clit, she involuntarily arched up her body begging for deeper penetration by the doctor's tongue. Maura stroked slightly deeper and harder, matching her motions with her fingers curled inside of Jane's vagina. Jane whimpered deep in her throat.

"Okay, baby, turn over now."

Jane did as she was told, ashamed that she missed Maura's tongue in her ass and then relieved when it was replaced by her little finger.

Maura inhaled deeply the bouquet of Jane's sex, sliding her cheeks and nose through the slick dew, tonguing softly at her opening, pulling with firm lips at the flesh of the detective's prominent labia minora. She could easily lose herself in Jane the way she could in a great novel or a fine bottle of wine.

"Please, baby." Jane groaned, her hands tangled in the doctor's hair, pushing her lightly toward where she was most needed.

Maura knew she was being selfish, purposely avoiding contact with Jane's clitoris to prolong the act she loved. Jane shouldn't have to beg for release. She moved her mouth up to the swollen bud, circling it slowly at first and gradually building up the speed and pressure of her strokes.

Jane breathed in small sips of air, her chest expanding bit by bit as all the muscles in her abdomen and legs tightened. With a huge exhaled groan she was over the edge, her body suffused with a warm heat and completely beyond her control.

Maura slowed and softened her mouth until she was merely resting against Jane's warm, fluttering sex. After a moment, the detective's hands, which had gone slack, moved tentatively through her damp hair.

"C'mere, Maur. Come back up here by me."

Jane looked relaxed, her features softened, eyes half-lidded under her long lashes. Maura snuggled in close, her lips against the steady pulse in Jane's neck.

"I blacked out for a minute. Is that, um... normal?"

"Ah, l_a petite mort_." Maura smiled at her. "Yes. Perfectly. Do you want to know the scientific reason for it?"

"Not really, so long as I'm not dying. It happened once before, um, by myself, when I was thinking of you."

"Blood rushes to your genitals during intense arousal, depriving the brain of oxygen. It usually accompanies an especially vivid climax."

"Yes, it did. You're amazing, Maura Isles."

"And you're delicious, Jane Rizzoli, primal and womanly."

She moved her lips onto Jane's and slowly parted them with her tongue.

"Taste. There's nothing sexier than to taste yourself in a woman's mouth."

Jane deepened the kiss, suckling lightly on the velvety tongue. Pulling away, she looked deep into the doctor's eyes, a burnished olive in the weakening afternoon light.

"There's nothing more beautiful than tasting myself in the mouth of the woman I love."

"And the woman who loves you, Jane."


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** And so they finally leave the island...that weekend was beginning to feel like a month, wasn't it? Mature material ahead, read at your own risk.

* * *

"I don't know how we are going to get everything back without a car." Maura frowned at a rapidly growing pile of suitcases and boxes accumulating on the porch. "And I haven't even emptied the refrigerator yet."

She drew her brows together, tapping her finger against her lips in deep thought.

"Let's load everything into the kayak and we can carry it between us."

"No, babe, leave the freakin' kayak. I will carry everything like a pack mule. I'm the ass who left the truck across the Sound, so I'll be the ass who hauls the burden. If I can carry you, I'm sure I can manage to carry your suitcases."

Maura smirked. "I'm certain my luggage weighs more than I do."

Jane wasn't paying attention. She was staring out across the pine scrub where the late afternoon sun glanced off the ocean. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides.

"Jane, what's wrong? Don't say,'nothing.' I can tell by your posture that you're agitated."

"Nope, not agitated at all. Just sad to be leaving."

Maura stepped in front of her and looked up into her huge dark eyes, her own narrowed in absolute concentration.

"You're hiding something, Jane."

"I'm not, but if you keep looking at me like that, there will be no hiding the wet stain in my jeans."

"Don't try to distract me with sex. Your eyes keep moving to the left which is a clear sign that you are trying to make something up to deflect from the real issue and your blinking has slowed."

"Which…," Jane interrupted, "is a clear sign of sincerity."

"Unless…," Maura countered, "the suspect in question knows the sign and is purposely refraining from blinking, hence the tension in her orbicularis oculi and the outright twitch in her temporalis."

Jane sighed. "Get me a beer, Maur. C'mon it will be one less thing to carry."

"We are not carrying all that beer onto the ferry, Jane. It can wait here, safe and sound until you return at a later date to drink it."

"It will get skunky. There's nothing worse than a skunky beer. Blech."

She shuddered. Maura rolled her eyes, but stepped into the kitchen to get the requested beverage.

"The patented Rizzoli eye roll. " Jane said to her disappearing back. "I guess you learned that by osmosis."

The doctor spun around, looking smug.

"The movement of soluble particles through a permeable membrane with the goal of equalizing the distribution of said particles throughout the solution?"

"It's a saying, Maur."

"A highly inaccurate and patently impossible saying. It does a disservice to both science and the English language."

Jane waved her toward the door. "Just get my beer, Stephen Hawking."

"Stephen Hawking is a theoretical physicist, Jane. Osmosis is a biological process."

"Science plus English. I thought it was a pretty witty choice for something I just pulled out of my ass."

The doctor wrinkled her nose and slowly waggled her hand in the universal gesture of mediocrity.

"Beer, Maura." Jane rasped, swatting the curvy, denim-clad ass as it finally disappeared into the kitchen.

"Everyone's a fuckin' comedian." She muttered. "I'm the funny one in this relationship. Remember that, Dr. Isles."

Bickering with Maura relaxed her. It felt so normal, reminded her that Maura was still her best friend despite the new and extremely satisfying path they had begun to walk together this weekend. She was in love with Maura, but what did that mean for the rest of her life back in Boston?

She had never been in love, but she was old enough to know that love did not, in fact, conquer all.

_Would Maura want me to live with her?_

She couldn't imagine sleeping apart from the doctor ever again, not only in a sexual manner, but because she would physically ache as for a missing limb if she couldn't reach across and feel the heat coming off of her mate or listen to her soft whistly breathing as she slept.

_But Maura is so persnickety with her home and her things, and she might not want me there with my tacky taste and sloppy ways._

She imagined going home several nights a week to her messy apartment and drinking beer on the couch with Jo. The image that would have seemed the height of relaxation, having an evening alone, now seemed sad and lonely. She'd lie awake all night staring at the unmoving blades of her ceiling fan and brood.

_I want a home with Maura. Maura is home. Maybe Maura would want a family. A big, noisy bunch of rowdy Rizzolis to make up for her own solitary childhood. We're probably too old, but maybe we could adopt some Rizzoli-esque kids someplace._

She pictured the long dining room table in Maura's house filled with a United Nations ensemble of children, all with dirty faces and mischievous grins. Maura would sit primly at one end of the table in her frilly, yellow apron and Jane at the other, egging the children towards a food fight.

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

_What a fuckin' pussy you've become Rizzoli._

She sat heavily on the steps and Jo Friday immediately sat beside her, resting her head on Jane's thigh. She scratched the silky ears of the little yorkie.

"Sorry, Jo. Mommy has been distracted. I haven't given you the attention you needed this weekend. I don't think I even fed you yesterday."

She grimaced. She was daydreaming about a family with Maura and she couldn't even remember to feed her dog.

_You don't deserve this Rizzoli. You know you don't deserve her._

"I know I don't." She said out loud.

"You don't what?"

Maura was standing behind her holding a frosty pilsner glass filled with an opaque honey-colored lager.

"No fruit?" Jane couldn't help herself. "You have your way with me and now all the niceties are out the window?"

Maura frowned. "All we have left is a banana. I didn't think that it would go well with a wheat beer and I fed Jo yesterday, so stop beating yourself up about that. Drink your beer, Jane."

Maura sat beside her on the steps, her body just outside of comfortable touching range. Jane would have to stretch out an arm to rest her hand on her knee. She didn't reach out; instead she worried at her glass with her fingertips, drawing random patterns in the condensation.

"Jane? Let's not go back with a lie between us. What's bothering you?"

"I'm scared, Maur. I'm worried about how things will be when we're back in Boston."

If Jane was expecting reassurance, it didn't seem to be forthcoming. The doctor had closed her eyes and was leaning her head against the railing, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

"Maur? I think this is where you say that everything will be just peachy and I have nothing to worry about. Everything will be exactly the same, but ...better and you love me. Right, Maur? You do still love me?"

She edged a bit closer and took one soft white hand in her own, gently tracing light freckles with her fingertips until they disappeared into the sleeve of a plaid flannel overshirt. When she looked up, Maura was staring out toward the sea, biting hard on her lower lip. She turned wet eyes to Jane.

"Are you ashamed to be with me?"

"No! God, Maura, how could you think that?"

She wrapped an arm around the doctor's waist.

"I am so grateful and astonished that you could love someone like me. I was speaking to my inner Jane earlier and agreeing with her that I don't deserve you."

Maura rested her head on the firm shoulder next to her.

"You deserve everything, Jane, and that's what I intend to give you, but sometimes I feel like half a person and I hope that what I have to give is enough."

Jane kissed the shell of her ear, small and pink and perfect. Maura had pulled her hair into a loose braid, leaving that feature exposed and begging to be caressed.

"I know I am only half a person without you, Maur, but maybe together we're a whole."

Jane pulled her closer.

"I don't want to spend another night alone. I don't mean that in a pervy way, just..." She struggled to find the words.

"...I want to come home to you."

"Yes." Maura smiled.

"So that means?"

"Yes. I will live with you, Jane. In your apartment, in my house, or if you prefer we could sell both and move somewhere together, someplace that will be ours."

The detective released the breath she didn't even realize she had been holding.

"You can do all the decorating, Maur. You can hang your creepy tribal masks everyplace and put up paintings that look like I could have done them but cost more than my apartment and I won't complain."

Maura nudged her in the ribs with her elbow.

"Oh, I'm sure you will complain. That's just who you are."

"Right, but inside I'd secretly be okay with it all. Maybe I could have a woman cave in the basement for my sports memorabilia."

"Sure, if there's room after I install my 5,000-bottle wine cellar."

"Sarcasm again, doctor?"

"No. I'm dead serious, Jane."

Jane patted her knee.

"Until we find this Barbie Dream House, I guess I will be staying with you."

"I would prefer that, but we could trade off if you like."

Jane shook her head, grinning.

"What?"

"I just can't believe that I am going to live with someone other than my ma. It's good, Maur. Good but weird."

"Surreal?"

"Yeah."

Maura took her hand.

"I've never lived with anyone either and I know I can be a little rigid, but I promise to try to compromise. I think we should have a safe word."

Jane blanched.

"Maura, I don't like to be tied up; I get panic attacks after what Hoyt did and I could never hurt you, even if you liked it."

Maura frowned, her eyebrows drawn in thought.

"Oh! BDSM! That's not my thing either. What I meant was I would like us to have a word that either of us could use out of context to let the other know that we are feeling pressured or overwhelmed or angry..."

Jane's eyes widened in understanding.

"So the other person would know to take it down a notch, maybe go for a walk and give the other some space."

"Exactly."

"It should be something that wouldn't come up in everyday conversation. How about...'touchdown'?"

Maura pulled a sour face.

"You and your brothers scream that constantly every Sunday afternoon. What about...'Agamemnon'?"

"Well, that's certainly not likely to be shouted by Rizzolis on Sunday or any other day. Fine, 'Agamemnon' it is."

Jane kissed the peerless ear again and worked her way behind it to the delicate creamy skin of Maura's neck.

"I love your hair, babe, but I think I love your bare neck more."

"That drives me crazy, just so you know if you keep kissing my neck we may never make it onto the ferry."

Jane pulled back long enough to catch Maura's eye and arch her own eyebrow before returning her lips to the flushed skin of the doctor's neck.

Maura shifted onto her lap, giving the detective easier access to her throat and the shadowy canyon between her breasts. Jane's tongue was flickering across her clavicle, leaving a warm wet trail that made her shudder as it cooled in the brisk sea air.

She reached down and unfastened the first three buttons of Jane's jeans.

The detective groaned against her chest as soon as her fingers touched the bare skin under Jane's waistband. Maura slipped her hand further inside until she could feel Jane's cleft with her fingertips, hot and wet, and the damp warm seams of her Levi's against the back of her hand. She dipped her shoulder for leverage and braced herself with a hand at the back of Jane's neck.

"I'm going to fuck you, Jane."

"Maura!" Jane's dark eyes flashed in shock. "I've never heard you use that word...ever!"

"I use it only in its original Anglo-Saxon connotation, from an old Germanic root meaning to thrust or to rub. I'm going to do both."

She worked her fingers against Jane's clitoris until it grew thick against her hand and then with a last butterfly touch, slipped deep inside of her, stroking slow against Jane's slick walls.

The detective was panting, her sweaty forehead resting against the doctor's chest, her pelvis rising off the porch to deepen the penetration.

"Wait, Maur." She gasped.

Maura slowed her tempo, but did not stop.

"I want you to come with me." Jane fumbled at the zipper of Maura's jeans, finally getting it open and pulling the dark-washed denim along with a pair of satiny green panties down over the curve of the doctor's ass and onto her thighs.

She growled in frustration as she turned and twisted her arm around Maura's.

"It's not going to work this way, Jane. You're left-handed and I'm right. We'll be in each other's way."

Jane lifted her weaker, damaged right hand and slipped it between Maura's thighs, willing it to be gentle and dextrous. Her stiff fingers found Maura's swollen clitoris and began to move against it.

"Slow, babe, you have to catch up."

They built a rhythm, tongues sliding hotly against each other in counterpoint to sliding fingers below.

"Let me know, Jane."

Jane nodded. "Now, Maur, now, but I can wait."

"Don't wait." Maura husked, her voice nearly as low as Jane's.

The detective's head fell back, the veins and tendons in her neck bulging as she spasmed against Maura's hand.

Maura arched into her, shuddering in her own release as they tumbled backward onto the worn wooden slats of the porch. They lay on the decking, Maura sprawled on top of Jane, her bare ass to the ocean and sky. She moved her mouth a fraction of an inch and licked at the sweat that had accumulated at the base of the detective's throat.

_Jane's own brine. Delicious._

She felt rough fingers running in a pattern from beneath the swell of her ass to the small of her back, up and down, elongated figure eights and then zig-zagging angles like lightning bolts. The patterns stopped and a new movement began, soft caresses on the inside of her buttocks and finally a firmer pressure deeper within.

"I want to do what you did for me earlier." Jane rasped.

Maura smiled.

"I want to do everything for you, Maura. I want to make you come and laugh. I want to protect you and make you a home and take care of you when you're sick..."

She growled in frustration, trying to put words to the emotions that were welling up inside her before they burst out in useless tears.

"I don't feel like we're just getting off, Maur. I feel like we're building something."

"I think we are, Jane, a life together, intimacy, trust...everything I've wanted but never had."

"Me too, babe."

She closed her eyes and breathed in the clean scent of Maura's hair.

When she opened them she was gazing into the warm brown eyes of Big Carl Timmons.

"Thoughtcha might need a ride to the ferry." She said.

* * *

"You look like a real New England dyke, Dr. Isles."

Jane laughed at her girlfriend's jeans, flannel shirt, and Birkenstock sandals worn with marled socks.

Maura wrinkled her brow. "That's exactly what I am, Jane."

"Please, Maura. You wouldn't be caught dead in that outfit in Boston."

"Probably not, but this is my working on the Vineyard outfit. It's perfect for strolling through brambles picking boysenberries or stacking wood for the fireplace or even hauling luggage off of the Cross Sound Ferry."

Jane pulled out her iphone and snapped a picture.

"Blackmail photo, Maur."

"I was a big fan of Birkenstocks in college. That and tweed suits."

"I hope you didn't wear them together."

"Alas, I did, though I had a large collection of saddle shoes and tasseled loafers as well."

"Sexy." Jane deadpanned. "Let's get a move on, Emily Dickinson."

Maura looked at her dubiously.

"Wasn't she a nerdy New England lesbian, Maur?"

"She was a reclusive New England poet who may have harbored same-sex attraction toward her sister-in-law, Susan Gilbert."

"Exactly."

"How did you know that Jane? That's a rather obscure theory."

"NPR. Impressed?"

"Yes I am."

Maura stood on her tip-toes and planted a kiss on Jane's chin dimple.

"See. I'm not just a trophy wife, I have a brain."

Grunting loudly, she picked up the heaviest of the boxes and bags, leaving her own small duffle, a suitcase on wheels, and Jo Friday for Maura.

They trundled down the metal ramp of The Lady of the Sound and onto the wood planked dock on the mainland. Jane managed to haul her burden off the boardwalk before dropping in an exhausted heap on top of the jumbled baggage. She stood up red-faced and sweating.

"Wait here with the stuff and I'll go get the truck."

Maura was staring at her arms, tongue slightly protruding from between her lips, eyes glazed with lust.

"Maura! Did you hear me?"

"Jane, the stress you placed on your biceps and brachioradialis has caused your cephalic vein to expand in a most attractive manner."

She stepped closer to the detective, tracing her index finger lightly over the prominent blue vein running from under the short sleeve of Jane's t-shirt down to her forearm.

"I'd like to lick it." She stated.

"Maura!" Jane looked around to make sure no one had heard. "If you watch our bags like a good girl, maybe I'll let you do that in the truck."

When she returned, the bags were piled up where she'd left them, but her girlfriend and dog were nowhere to be found. She busied herself loading the trunk and was surprised at how much emptier it was for the return trip to Boston. They had eaten most of the Italian specialties and left the rest with Big Carl, and all of the wine and beer had remained behind to be enjoyed at a later date.

_Maybe I can get away for a few days in June_. Jane mused.

She swung in the last bag and slammed the liftgate.

"Maura! Jo! Time to go."

She scanned the rapidly emptying ferry dock with a cop's eye, finally catching sight of Maura's purple plaid shirt down a side plankway at what appeared to be a small craft fair. She jogged the hundred yards to meet her.

"You left our stuff alone, Maur. No cyrillic veins for you."

Maura chucked softly, intent on a mason jar filled with what looked like boogers and slime.

"I'll take two of these please."

Maura smiled at the young woman behind the table and pulled out a fifty from her pocket.

"What is that?" Jane turned up her nose in disgust.

"Cloudberry preserves. I bought one for Angela and one for Susie."

She handed the jars to Jane and continued to stroll along the the tables, looking politely at beach plum candles and cranberry soap, lobster embossed tea towels and clam shell ashtrays. She stopped suddenly at one table, clutching at Jane's forearm.

"Fairy stones, Jane!"

Neatly displayed on a white tablecloth were a half dozen leather thongs, each beaded with a score of irregularly shaped grey stones, the centers of which were worn through by thousands of years of rushing water.

The doctor picked up one cord and held it up with a smile.

"My father and I would scour the beach looking for these each summer. On a good day, maybe we'd find one."

The short, round, grey-haired woman behind the table spoke up.

"Ayuh, my man brings them to me. He knows the places the fairies leave their holey-stones. These ward off the nightmares, they do."

"That's what my father used to tell me."

Maura beamed down at the small woman.

"Jane, I'm going to buy one to hang on our bed. No more nightmares."

She squeezed the detective's hand.

A loud voice called from behind them. "Hey, Detective Romeo! I see you've met my Maeve."

Jane spun to see Captain Ethan Timmons walking toward them, a glass bottle of coke and a hotdog in each hand.

"Timmy!" She beamed. "This is my Maura." She turned to the doctor."Babe, if it wasn't for Timmy, I never would have made it home to you last night."

"Then I owe you a tremendous thank you, Captain." She smiled at the old fisherman and he blushed.

"Lovey-girl, this is the big-city detective you bargained with last night and her lady."

"That so?" The chubby little woman smiled. "Our girl, Carla, she's the law out in Chilmark."

Jane laughed, remembering the half-amused, half-mortified look on Big Carl's face as she looked down at them sprawled across the porch with Maura's naked ass cooling in the breeze.

"We have had the pleasure of meeting Officer Timmons. In fact, she drove us to the ferry this afternoon. Timmy, when you speak to her, please tell her thank you from Big Jane."

"Will do." He said.

Maura picked up another thong and then another.

"I think I will just have to take them all, Mrs. Timmons."

"That's a lot of bad dreams you'll be fighting."

"They're not for me. I have friends who are police officers and they have all seen things that keep them awake at night."

"I understand." Mrs. Timmons touched her hand lightly. She wrapped each thong in tissue paper and placed it in a paper bag shopping bag, "Fisherwife Maeve" printed in blue across it along with a website.

They chatted with the Timmonses for a few minutes and then took their leave, walking hand and hand toward the waiting Jeep, Jo Friday at their heels.

"Detective Romeo!"

Jane turned around again.

"You ever need help with some big city crime, just you remember me and my girl are here to help."

She waved at him and turned back to Maura.

"Who's getting the fairystones?"

"One for us."

"For our bed." Jane smiled shyly.

"Barrold, Vincent, Sean, Frankie..."

"That's five, babe, you bought six."

"I thought..." Maura looked down. "...someday I might send one to my father."

"Good idea." Jane kissed her head. "Let's get going. We have a long drive ahead of us and I don't want to go right to sleep."

"Oh no?" Maura asked. "What did you have in mind instead?"


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N**: A big Brooklyn thank you to all of _yous_ who nominated me for the Rizzles Fan Awards. I'm very grateful.

* * *

The morning alarm on Maura's iphone blared _Venti Turbini _from Handel's Rinaldo and Jane groaned, pulling a firm down-filled pillow over her head.

_Fuckin' Monday. No Tuesday._

"Maura, hit the snooze button already. I can't stand that squawking first thing in the morning."

For a brief moment both women forgot that anything had changed over the weekend. It was perfectly natural for the detective to wake up in the M.E.'s luxurious bed on a work morning and for her to grouse about the alarm and plead for an additional few minutes of sleep. It was a mundane occurrence for the doctor's arm to be thrown over Jane's waist and for her legs to be bent and nestled behind the larger woman's knees. It was not customary, however, for the pair to be bare-skinned with the smell of sex clinging to the pale yellow Egyptian cotton sheets.

Maura remembered first.

"Good morning, my sexy, grouchy lesbian lover."

She pressed her breasts against Jane's back and breathed her hot breath against her neck.

Jane purred deep in her throat.

"Sorry, babe. I will make an effort to be more agreeable in the morning. I'm gonna be Janie Fuckin' Sunshine every day, gonna crap out rainbows for my morning shit."

Maura smirked against Jane's warm neck.

"Your muscles are tense. Are you worried about work? About us at work?"

"Not really."

Maura rolled Jane onto her back and quickly mounted her.

"Whoa Nelly! Work, shower, coffee."

"I'm not looking to initiate intercourse, Jane. I simply need to look into your eyes and this seemed the most expedient way."

Jane's eyes were the warm dark chocolate they always were, a little crusty in the corners from sleep. Her lips were quirked up at the corners. Maura knew she was trying to look wry but was holding back a full grin.

"Listen, baby, I don't lie to you."

"I know, Jane, but sometimes you lie to yourself."

"Maura Isles, I am okay with being your lesbian love toy at work, at home, on Martha's Vineyard, in Boston, in New York fuckin' City, on the moon, at the beach, on the T, at McDonald's or Le Beau Truc, on any day of the week, in the company of any other human being. I love you and I don't give a fuck who knows. I'm 40 years old; the world can kiss my ass."

Maura threw back her head and laughed, Jane could just see the undersides of her breasts and a cascade of golden hair from her angle and she was certain she had never seen anything as lovely.

With a quick kiss on the cheek, the doctor rolled off of her and bounded out of the bed.

"Do you want to shower first, second or together?"

"Will we get any washing done if we shower together?"

"Probably not. You go first, Jane, I need to pick out an outfit for today."

"I thought you did that a week in advance."

"I do, but... I didn't anticipate the outcome of our weekend away and I'm not sure my choices are valid any longer."

Jane slipped out of bed and stretched, her arms above her head, back arched. Maura gaped at the taut, lean muscles, tensing and relaxing under her lover's tanned skin. Her fingers twitched with longing and she unconsciously ran her tongue across her lips.

"Like what you see?" Jane husked, meeting her eye.

"Yes." She replied, simply.

"I'm yours, Maura, warts and all."

"You don't have any warts, Jane."

"It's a saying, Maur, it means with all my flaws, physical and emotional. But today is a work day and we smell like a giant vagina, so let's get moving into the shower."

"I like the smell of our sex."

"I do too, babe, but I can't imagine Frost and Korsak or Susie Chang wanting to smell our twats all day."

Maura chuckled, picturing their three colleagues sniffing the air and looking confused and mildly disturbed.

"You put such evocative images into my mind, Jane."

"Get your sexy ass into the shower, Maur, I'm picking out your outfit today."

She swatted the curvy rear and stepped into the doctor's enormous closet.

* * *

"Morning." Jane crooned from the break room. She'd heard Frost and Korsak exchanging pleasantries at their desks and decided to make each a cup of joe and bring it out to them.

She emerged balancing 3 cups in her hands with a Devil Dog plugged in her mouth like a cigar.

"Who bought all the shit in the break room?" She mumbled around the chocolate cake.

"I did." Korsak waved his hand. "Went to Costco this weekend to stock up on toilet paper and dog food and I couldn't resist. "

"Ha! When Hostess went out of business, people heard Korsak's crying all the way in New Hampshire." Frost snickered.

"I thought you liked Twinkies, Janie. I especially bought them for you and I bought you Yodels, Barry, though now I may rethink my purchase." He shot a mock-hurt look across the room at Frost.

"Nah, I appreciate it, Vince. I'm going to have one, no make it two, of those chocolate delights right now with my coffee."

"Yeah, thanks, Vince." Jane patted his shoulder. "But those things are called _Zoinks_ which means they changed the formula. I'd rather not be disappointed."

"I think they changed the name because Twinkie has sexual connotations. Isn't aTwinkie a young boy who sleeps with older men?"

"Yeah. I guess that's a bad name for a penis-shaped cake filled with white cream."

They all laughed.

"You look relaxed, Jane. You have a nice weekend?"

"Yeah, real nice. You?"

"Yup. Went to an Oriole game with my mom and Robin and to one of those crab places where you smash them open with a big wooden hammer. We all sat up late, talking about old times and watching a Walking Dead marathon."

"That's good, Barry. I'm glad for you." Jane reached across their desks and squeezed his forearm.

"While you two were sunning yourselves and eating crabs, I worked my ass off. In my inbox this morning there should be a list of everyone in the greater Boston area who had access to Protein-B-Gone."

"And that would be..."

"All employees of the 3 crime scene clean-up companies based here in Central New England as well as the janitorial crew of the Revere school district and Mass General Hospital."

Jane puffed out her cheeks.

"That's a lot of people, not to mention secondary contacts who may have gotten the product from a friend or family member who pinched it from work."

"Let's start with the employees and work our way out. Frost, could you..."

"Already on it, Jane. I'll run the names, see who has a record. Send me the lists, old man."

Korsak tapped a few keys on his PC and Frost's terminal immediately beeped.

"Whew, that's...over 1400 names."

"Really? Shit."

"1423 to be exact; this may take a while."

"Take your time, Frosty, I'm going to have another cup and a Zoink, want one?"

"No thanks, Jane, I need a bit longer to rid myself of the penis full of cream image."

"I'll have one, Jane." Korsak brushed chocolate crumbs from his tie.

Jane returned and sat at her desk.

"What about Prudence Rigsdale? Did her ship come in?"

Korsak answered, his mouth full of Zoink.

"I have a buddy at the Port Authority watching out for me; a boat that big, there's only a dozen or so slips in the Boston area where she could be moored. The moment she docks we'll get a call. Hey, speaking of boats, the doc said she bought a kayak. You gals get to do any paddling this weekend?"

"Nah, maybe next time. We did get to see the Kennedy crash sight."

"Yeah, you texted me a pic."

"Did I?"

Jane couldn't focus on anything else Korsak was saying because at the mention of the doc, her mind was flooded with thoughts of Maura; shuddering under her last night, moving her hot wet mouth across Jane's abdomen, standing fully dressed this morning in the outfit Jane had picked: a tight black skirt and a silky pewter colored blouse, her erect nipples protruding through the gossamer fabric.

"Oh God..." She moaned.

"Jane are you sick?"

Frost was up and at her side in no time.

"No, I just...it's this coffee. It just tastes like ass."

_Maura's tongue in her ass._

_Bad analogy, Rizzoli._

"I mean, I got used to drinking the good stuff that Maura buys over the weekend and now..."

Both of her partners looked at her dubiously, but let it go, returning to their own seats.

_Keep your mind on your work, Rizzoli._

Jane had never before in her life been bothered by intrusive sexual thoughts. She had a handful of "go to" scenarios, her favorite involving Kathy Najimy and a very ill-fitting brassiere, that she could call up to get herself off when she was masturbating, but those images never intruded into her work life, nor did she ever think of any of her casual boyfriends in that way.

_Love. Soulmate. In love. It does make a difference._

She sat back, smiling to herself.

"Jane? What's the matter with you?"

"Just a little gas. I shouldn't have had that Zoink on top of the Devil dogs."

"Got a few hits here." Frost called from behind his terminal.

Jane and Korsak stood behind him, peering at the monitor. A photo rendered on the screen: a pug-faced caucasian man in a standard prison-issue jumpsuit.

"Clarence Kilkenny, 56, armed robbery, felony assault, possession of burglary tools..."

Frost read through the litany of his crimes, going back to an auto theft in 1974.

"Sweet guy, where does he work?" Jane asked.

"He's on the janitorial staff at Mass Gen." Frost replied. "Looks like he did time in Cedar Junction, Framingham and Concord."

"How tall is he?" Jane asked.

"5'9", so not our guy. The doc said our killer was between 5' and 5'3"."

"I'm going to add a filter that will narrow our results to within those parameters."

Frost tapped a few keys and the list visibly shrank from 6 pages to just 2 names.

"Yes!" Jane pumped her fist. "Much better."

Frost stood and took a bow, smiling smugly at his partners. He looked closely at Jane's face and his smile sagged.

"What happened to your cheeks? You have some pretty good scratches there."

She thought she had done a fine job covering them with concealer and foundation, but the fluorescent lighting in the homicide pen was unforgiving.

"I got into a little wrestling match with a blackberry bush on the Vineyard."

Frost chuckled. Korsak took a step closer for a better look.

"Did that blackberry bush also give you that huge hickey on your chest?"

"What the fuck, Vince! Why are you looking down my shirt?"

The older detective stammered, blushing a deep pink. "I, um, I thought it was a piece of devil dog and I was going to..."

"What? Pick it out and eat it?"

Frost was doubled over in laughter.

"This is why I love my job." He said, wiping a tear from his eye.

"What's so funny over here? I hope you three are laughing because you just cleared your murder boards and are ready to take another case."

Lieutenant Cavanaugh stood in front of them in his shirt sleeves, hands on his hips.

"No, but we do have a new lead in the Rigsdale murder."

"Two new leads." Frost amended.

"Tell me."

Frost sat back behind the monitor and struck a few keys. The image on his monitor was transferred onto the large LCD screen on the wall. He clicked on the first record and the photo of a man appeared, his eyes were huge and frightened in the mug shot.

"Jose Garcia Reyes, 34, DWI. He's a janitor at Revere Elementary."

"Five foot one." Korsak added.

"It's a long jump from DWI to premeditated murder."

The lieutenant looked unconvinced. "Who else you got?"

Frost tapped another key and the screen filled with the photo of a woman.

"Ewww." Frost and Korsak groaned in unison.

"I guess we can rule out that she was Phil Rigsdale's secret lover." Jane deadpanned.

"Estelle DiNucci, 68, 5 feet even, possession of marijuana earlier this year. Works per diem for Boston Medi-Clean."

Jane looked carefully at the wizened woman, with her patchy balding head and sallow skin.

"I bet she has cancer. That marijuana wasn't for recreational use."

Korsak shook his head. "We should just leave those people alone. Who arrested her?"

Frost brought up the arrest report.

"Looks like she was collateral damage in a bust out by Langone Park."

"Neither of your leads looks very promising." Cavanaugh frowned. "But run them down any way; you got nothing else, not that you would, having taken off the whole holiday weekend."

He turned and walked back to his office, closing the door loudly behind him.

"Boo-hoo, Rizzoli's on the boss's shit list. Not the hero today, huh Rizzoli? Sucks, don't it?"

"Fuck off, Martinez."

He was a piece of shit and a dirty cop. Jane hated the sight of him. Maura theorized that he had a high level of testosterone and that he probably had a smaller than average scrotal sac.

Jane gagged a little. She didn't want to think about Raf Martinez and his scrawny balls.

"How do you wanna do this?"

"Frost and I will shoot over to Revere. Reyes should be at work; it's a school day. You want to check out DiNucci? North End is your stomping grounds."

"Sure. But I'm not too hopeful about this."

"Me neither."

Korsak stood and grabbed his jacket which was draped over his chair.

"Guys, could you wait a minute. I have something I need to get off of my chest."

Jane sat on her desk and picked up the receiver, punching in the most dialed extension from that particular phone. The phone rang in the morgue.

"Maur, could you come upstairs? It's important...and bring Susie."

Frost and Korsak looked at each other, clueless, but apprehensive. Jane had been preoccupied for weeks. She must have made some crucial mistake at a scene, maybe contaminated evidence. Now she was going to come clean in front of the entire squad, the M.E. and senior forensic scientist.

Korsak stood and walked over to his partner. He looked into her eyes and was surprised to see them clear and untroubled. Strange.

"Janie, don't do this. Not in front of everyone. Not at all." He whispered under his breath.

"What are you talking about, Vince?" She looked hurt and confused.

Frost must have come to the same conclusion because he joined the older detective, standing between her and the rest of the squad room.

"Jane, we have your back. Whatever needs to be done, it will be."

"Don't put your own head on the guillotine."

The elevator dinged and Dr. Isles gingerly stepped off, Susie Chang in her wake. The click of her Sebastian t-strap stilettos echoed off of the tile floor. She frowned. These were an especially uncomfortable pair of shoes and completely inappropriate for work, but Jane had picked them out, saying how sexy they made her legs look, and she wanted to please her. She was definitely going to have toe cramps by this afternoon and most likely a blood blister. Jane would just have to rub her feet. The thought made her feel a bit less wretched and she picked up her pace until she was standing in front of the detective, nearly at eye level in the 4½ inch pumps.

Jane looked at her and winked.

She cleared her throat and then whistled, two fingers in her mouth as if she were hailing a cab.

"Listen up. I have an announcement."

The squad room was silent, twenty pairs of eyes fixed on her.

"I'm gay."

Frost laughed, patting her on the shoulder. Korsak let out a deep sigh of relief, wiping at his brow with a wadded Dunkin' Donuts napkin.

"That's all, folks. Go back to work. Peace out."

The sounds of a busy office picked up immediately, low conversations, the clack of typing fingers on keyboards, files and papers being moved about, footsteps tapping across the floor, chairs rolling.

Jane turned to Maura. "How'd I do, babe?"

Maura smiled gently and squeezed her hand.

"Hey Rizzoli." Martinez's voice boomed across the squad room. "I'm so shocked and astonished I don't know what to do."

"Yeah, real surprise there, Rizzoli. What could top this? Maybe Frost will stand up next and announce that he's black."

Crowe cackled with his buddy.

"Fuckin' jerks." Korsak muttered.

"Listen, I don't want to put my foot in my mouth again, so I'm almost afraid to ask, but..."

He gestured between his partner and the M.E.

"Yeah." Jane said, draping her arm casually over Maura's shoulder. "We're together."

"Good for you, Janie. I was hoping this would happen for a long time now."

He hesitated and then wrapped both women in a big bear hug.

"Me too, Jane." Frost stepped forward and kissed each woman on the cheek.

"Okay, show's over."

Jane cracked her knuckles and looked down at her shoes, suddenly embarrassed by all the attention. Her partners knew her well enough to leave her alone. The grabbed their suit jackets and were out the door.

"I'm proud of you, Jane." Maura linked their pinkie fingers, unsure how much affection it was appropriate to display in the middle of homicide command.

"I told you, babe, I'm all in."

Jane lifted their linked hands and kissed the doctor's thumb.

Susie Chang stepped between them, extending her cool dry hand. Jane took it in her own and shook.

"Thank you, Detective Rizzoli, for including me in your announcement. I am honored to share, even in a small way, in your coming out."

"Er...thanks, Senior Criminologist Chang." Jane grimaced. "Ah, fuck it. Call me Jane, okay?"

Susie Chang beamed, her eyes sparkling behind her large glasses.

"Okay and would you do me the honor of calling me Susie?"

"Yeah, sure."

She turned back to Maura.

"I have to ride up to the North End, not sure if I'll be back for lunch, but dinner tonight? Someplace fancy and romantic?"

"Jane, you just outed yourself to the entire homicide division of the Boston Police Department."

"Yeah, I know, we should celebrate."

"Before or after you tell your mother?"

"Shit."

Jane sat heavily in her chair.

"Yes. Shit indeed, if Angela finds out from someone else first."

The detective bit nervously on the balls of her fingers.

"Maura, invite her to dinner tonight and keep her busy all day."

"How?"

"You're a genius; think of something."

"To the morgue, Senior Criminologist Chang, we have an autopsy to perform and a mother-in-law to distract."

"I have a hundred ideas, Dr. Isles."

_Mother-in-law._

Jane found herself laughing out loud.

"Whatcha laughing about Rizzoli? Did your girlfriend come up and tickle you?"

Martinez leered, a raptorial smile on his stubbled face. The man actually thought he was charming, Jane realized.

She leaned against his desk.

"That's right, Raf, _my_ girlfriend. A woman like Dr. Isles wouldn't look at you twice."

"Ha ha, she got you there, Martinez." Crowe punched him in the arm.

"Speaking of which, Darren, I seem to recall that you owe the doctor a formal apology for the rude and frankly obscene comment you made about her last week. So you'd better take out your crayons and start writing."

She turned on her heel and swaggered out of the station.


	27. Chapter 27

"I can't believe Ma didn't want to cook tonight. Do you think she's sick?" Jane grabbed a bag from the back seat of her Crown Vic and kicked the door closed.

"I think she's probably just tired. I ran her ragged today cooking for Rondo's surprise party at the youth center. It's just as well, I've eaten so much Italian lately, Thai will be nice for a change."

"Maura!" Jane looked aghast before collapsing to the front steps in a fit of choking giggles.

The doctor sat beside her, looking befuddled.

"I missed the joke, Jane, but you seem to be enjoying it so thoroughly that I am going to ask you to explain it to me."

"Babe, you said you've been eating too much Italian. I am Italian." Jane rested a hand lightly on her own chest.

Maura shrugged, still baffled. The detective pointed emphatically to her crotch.

"You've been eating a lot of Italian, Maura."

"Oh! A double entendre playing upon the vernacular dysphemism for cunnilingus."

"Yes, Maura, exactly."

The doctor smiled, pleased with herself that she had uttered such a witticism, albeit unknowingly.

"Are you ready to do this, Jane?"

"Yup. Just give me a brief, and I do mean brief, recap of the lie you told Ma to keep her out of the gossip mill today."

"I didn't lie."

"Something about Rondo and catering a party?" Jane coaxed.

"Yes. Senior Criminologist Chang formulated the plan. She's quite the colluder."

"Aha, so she lied and your hands are clean."

Maura looked flustered.

"No… there really was a party, only there wouldn't have been one if I… I mean if SC Chang hadn't organized it."

"Mmm-hmm, go on." Jane crossed her arms.

"Your mother is under the impression that Rondo wanted to host a luncheon for the young people he mentors at the youth center and that he felt only Angela Rizzoli's cooking was good enough for such a gala event."

"Uh huh, and he paid for it with nickels and pennies from his pan-handling cup?"

"Of course not, I paid for it."

"And yet you're hive free, Dr. Isles?"

"Completely. Your mother spent the day locked away in the cafe's kitchen and the kids at the center had a delicious Italian lunch. No harm, no frown."

"Foul, Maura, no harm no foul."

Jane bent over quickly and kissed one deeply dimpled cheek and then, unable to resist, a soft full lip.

"Let's do this, babe."

She stood and offered the doctor her hand.

"Oh, we need to tell my mother that this is Chinese food. Thai is out of her comfort zone."

Maura looked doubtful.

"Can we compromise and call it Asian?"

"You can call it Martian, for all I care, but I am calling it Chinese."

She took one deep breath and opened the door to the guesthouse.

"Ma! We're here. Did you put up a kettle of water? I know how you love your Chinese tea."

"Asian tea." Maura muttered under her breath.

"Zip it, Confucius." Jane zinged back. "Ma!" She roared again.

Angela emerged from the back of the house, wearing a pair of pink flannel pajamas adorned with a running pattern of ebony poodles and a pair of flip flops.

"Jesus, Janie, I was just taking a pee. You'd think the house was on fire the way you carry on. Is that from Happy Duck or Yummy Kitchen? I like the lo mein better at Happy Duck, but the girl is nicer at Yummy Kitchen, so I like to go there."

"Um, neither. It's from some fancy place that Maura likes."

Angela smiled and patted the doctor's shoulder.

"Maura has excellent taste, so I'm sure it will be delicious."

Jane simpered, a sickly sweet smile transforming her face.

"Oh yes, Maura has excellent taste," she said. "In women," she mouthed to her girlfriend behind her mother's back, her saccharine smile turning lupine.

Angela sat at the small kitchen table which was set with three plates, tea cups and cutlery.

"Let's eat, girls. I want to be in bed by 9:00. I had an exhausting day. Janie, I made $500 today, catering a party for Rondo at the youth center."

"$500!"

Jane glared at Maura, eyes aflame with consternation.

"Actually, $420 because I had to buy the food at Costco, but I saved money by cooking everything at the café using Mr. Stanley's gas."

"Well, that's certainly a nice haul for a day's work, Ma."

"I gave $50 to Tommy because he came over and helped me by waiting on customers while I cooked in the back."

"Still a nice chunk of change."

Maura had unpacked the bag, opening still steaming containers of drunken noodles loaded with crunchy peppers, sweet basil and prawns, pineapple fried rice dappled with cashews and raisins, crispy soft-shell crabs tossed in green curry and a thicker red curry rich with vegetables and potatoes. She began dishing out the entrees while Angela eyed them warily.

"It's good, Ma, I promise."

"So how was your weekend, baby?"

"Really good." Jane smiled broadly, jabbing at and repeatedly missing a fat hunk of eggplant with her chopsticks.

Angela watched her with a smirk.

"Why don't you eat with a fork like a regular American?"

Maura finished serving herself and sat, picking up a set of chopsticks and easily lifting a serving of rice and pineapple into her mouth.

"What did you do on Martha's Vineyard?"

Angela stabbed a prawn with her fork, sniffed it and brought it to her mouth. "Not bad," she allowed.

"We did a lot of stuff." Jane answered.

"Such as?"

"Uh, we went to a lighthouse and the bridge where Kennedy drowned that girl."

"Allegedly let her drown, Jane. There is a difference." Maura pointed out.

"Did you eat lobsters?" Angela asked, poking at at a bamboo shoot.

"Yes."

"Did you go to the beach?"

"Yes, but the water was too cold to swim."

"Did you try out the kayak?"

"No, didn't get around to that."

Jane finally managed to pick up a wide noodle and get it into her mouth.

"Yes!" She growled in triumph. "Jane Rizzoli one, chopstick zero!"

"Did you fuck?"

"What?" Jane sputtered, a bean sprout flying from her mouth.

"Please, Janie, you think I don't know what's going on here? I raised Boston's finest detective. I have the instincts of a bloodhound; nothing gets past me."

Jane looked across the table at Maura, her eyes wide with panic, stunned into silence.

The doctor looked back helplessly, completely at a loss for words. They both turned toward Angela, stupefied and silent.

The elder Rizzoli sat smugly at the head of the table, leisurely sipping a cup of strong black tea. She took a final sip from her teacup and placed it back down on her saucer.

Reaching across the tabletop, she took Jane's hand in her own and brought it to her lips. She repeated the gesture with Maura's smaller hand and then sat for a moment with her eyes closed, one worn hand holding on to each woman.

She opened her eyes, they were red and glassy, but she did not cry.

"I love you both. Be good to each other."

Jane had recovered enough to speak.

"How?" She squeaked, her alto leaping up into the high soprano range.

"You two have been mooning over each other for years."

Angela pushed herself away from the table and walked into the kitchen. Jane took the opportunity to scoot closer to Maura, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"You okay, baby?"

"Yes. I'm surprised at your mother's initial vocabulary choice, but not at her sentiments. She is clearly pleased."

Jane nodded.

There was the clinking sound of glasses being jostled about in a cabinet and then Angela returned with a bottle of Sambuca Romana and 3 small espresso cups. She plunked them down amid the Thai remnants and poured a healthy serving of the licorice-flavored liqueur into each.

She raised a cup, twisting her mouth in thought and finally nodding with a loud "humf."

"May my daughter Janie find the peace that has so long eluded her. I wish her comfort and happiness and an end to her struggles. I know she will be loved. May my other daughter Maura find a home and the companionship that she yearns for. I wish her joy and ease of mind. I know she too will be loved."

She was quiet a moment, her light eyes flickering between the pair opposite her.

"Salute." She finally pronounced and downed her drink.

"Salute." The stunned couple echoed, catching each other's gaze as they drank to their own future.

Jane stood up, swiping at her eyes and closed the distance to her mother. She knelt beside the older woman and buried her face in her neck, hugging her tighter than she had since she was little.

"That's my good girl." Angela murmured into her hair.

When Jane finally let go, her mother swatted her behind her ear.

"Don't fuck this up, Jane Clementine."

Maura had begun clearing dishes in order to give Jane a moment with her mother. She stood in the kitchen, picking prawns out of the mass of noodles to bring home for Jo Friday.

"Maura, come here." Angela called. "We're all family, for better or worse, and I think you know that with the Rizzolis there is always plenty of worse to go with the better. Don't ever think you need to slink off someplace. You belong here with us."

Maura nodded her understanding. Jane crossed the room to stand beside her, reaching down to brush a tear off of a soft cheek.

"But really, Ma, how did you know? How did you know we finally got it together this weekend?"

Angela laughed.

"I guess I should come clean. First of all, Constance and I have been discussing this for months."

Maura gasped. "You've been talking to my mother?"

"Sure. We play internet Scrabble a few times a week and text during our games. She mentioned a coded message in French and Latin coming through from you on Jane's phone, said it meant that you two had finally done the deed."

Maura blushed. She had surreptitiously sent her mother two messages, "fait accompli" and "alea iacta est," while Jane slept the previous morning.

"Secondly..." Angela continued. "I saw you two come home last night and if I'm not mistaken, Maura was licking your arms on the front porch."

"Oh God!" Jane covered her face in embarrassment. "Damn cyrillic veins." She muttered.

"And finally, everyone was talking about your big announcement in the cafe. It was the number one topic of conversation."

"Shit!" Maura blurted. "So much for my cloak and dagger subterfuge."

Jane laughed. "No, babe, you and Susie Chang are definitely not James Bond and M."

"So you're okay with this? You approve?"

"Of course I approve. My crabby old maid daughter lands a beautiful doctor. What's not to approve of? I can't wait to rub it in Carla Talucci's fat face."

* * *

Maura sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing cream on her bare legs and watching Jane silently frown at the same page in her magazine for five full minutes.

"I don't think it could have gone any better than it did, both at work and with your mother."

"Yeah." Jane closed the magazine and tossed it to the floor where it landed splayed with several pages bent next to the detective's work belt and boots. Maura fought back a grimace; she had promised to be less rigid and fully intended to follow through on it. If having a life partner meant that she would have to graciously step over dirty underpants and sweaty socks, so be it.

She carefully closed the cap on her bottle of Tokyo-Milk body lotion, making sure to wipe the neck and sides against drips and placed it on her night table at a 90° angle to her Clinique Youth Surge face cream.

Jane watched, amused.

"You're adorable, Maura."

The doctor shrugged and pulled on a pair of silky persian-blue pajama bottoms, an exact match to the button-down top she was wearing. She pulled back the covers and slid beneath, scooting across the bed toward Jane.

"What's bothering you? Your eyes have been sad since you got back to the station this afternoon, even when you were laughing."

"Nah, it's nothing, babe. I had a rough interview, can't seem to shake it. I have to work on leaving my baggage at the door. I don't want to bring unhappiness into our home. This should be our refuge."

Maura moved closer, taking Jane's hand in her own, she began rubbing the joints of her fingers and working in toward her scarred palms. It was soothing to the detective as well as important to keep the scar tissue supple and arthritis at bay.

"That feels good, baby. I wish you could rub my brain and get the knots out of there."

"What's tangled in your brain, la mia pantera?"

Jane sighed, pulling back her left hand and giving over her right.

"Work stuff, Maur. Shouldn't we have a rule about bringing work into our bedroom?"

"Probably, I don't think we should discuss murder and autopsies in our bed, but if something is bothering you, even work related, this is the place where I can best comfort you." She gestured around them at the buttery duvet, and crisp sheets. "This is our raft in a stormy sea."

"Pretty posh raft, babe."

"No hiding behind humor, not here. Talk, Jane."

The detective leaned back and closed her eyes.

"We ran the list of people with access to Protein-B-Gone against the DCJS and only came up with two hits within the height range you projected. Neither was a promising match, but Cavanaugh had us run them down anyway. I drew Estelle DiNucci, who was arrested for the first time in her nearly 70 years for possession of a negligible amount of weed. P.S., she has terminal cancer."

"That stinks, Jane."

"It was so sad, Maur. She's living in a fourth-floor walk up on Cooper Street, above a laundromat. The fuckin' landlord is just itching for her to drop dead so he can rent the place to some douchebag hipsters for $4,000 a month. Hospice is there and the scumbag begrudges her every breath she takes. He actually told me as much in the same room where she was dying."

"Oh, Jane." Maura kissed the hand she was rubbing and continued to hold it between both of her own.

"Yeah, this job finds a way to break my heart a little every day. A good woman who never hurt a single soul, and she's dying alone like a dog. We bust her in February in Langone Park for trying to buy some pot cause the cancer is in her bones and she can't fuckin' eat, weighs maybe 85 pounds."

"I thought you said hospice was there."

"They are. Great nurse, real caring. Damn, I couldn't do that job. How could anyone? But she's a stranger, you know? Estelle has no one; husband is dead, kid is dead. She'll die in that shitty little apartment with only a stranger to watch her go."

She leaned her cheek against the silky shoulder of Maura's pajama top and squeezed her eyes shut to block out the image.

"I knew I was going to find that when I left the station. I knew as soon as I saw the mug shot. Shit. I still had to drag my ass up there and ask a bunch of bullshit questions that I already knew the answer to. I knew she didn't kill Phil Rigsdale, poor thing was lying in a diaper with a morphine drip when he died."

Jane was crying softly. Maura ran her hand slowly up and down her arm, wishing her loving touch could take away the pain.

"I don't know why this is eating at me, babe. I've seen so much horror; dead kids, abused and raped, their little bodies all broken…." She sobbed. "But one old lady dying alone rips my heart out."

Maura was not an intuitive person, she mistrusted her instincts, eschewed hunches and gut feelings, abhorred to guess, would never presume to understand the complex emotions of another person when her own feelings were so often confusing to her. But Jane was feeling pain, and when Jane hurt, Maura hurt; that's how she knew they were soulmates.

With Jane there was no need to guess, she just knew. She perceived that Jane ached because she had witnessed desolation in its most poignant manifestation, the final days of a solitary soul speaking to another who had imagined her own end in such a way.

Maura understood alone, Maura knew solitude and how it could break your heart.

"Jane, we have each other. We will not die alone and maybe…."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe we will have a family some day."

Hot tears had soaked through the doctor's silk top and warmed her skin, but now they ceased and Jane sniffled and sat up.

"Don't tell my mother. She'll come home with a baggie of Giovanni's sperm and chase us around the house with a turkey baster."

Maura laughed. "There's my girl. Your sense of humor is back. That was a joke, right? At our age, insemination alone would probably not be sufficient to produce a pregnancy. We would most likely have to go through egg harvesting and in vitro fertilization."

"Yeah, just a joke. Egg harvesting, huh? Sounds repulsive."

The doctor grew quiet. Jane's recounting of her experience with Estelle DiNucci had awakened an old memory in her, an unhappy event from an unhappy time. Maura carried many old hurts in tightly locked compartments of her mind, and now she struggled with whether or not to share this particular pain with her partner. It might be easier to stuff it back into its box and forget it; Jane had vented, made a joke and moved on. Why make her melancholy again? The detective looked so peaceful, stroking Jo's ears, a tranquil smile on her face.

"Maur? I can smell your big brain frying out its circuits. What's up? You'd better tell me before you chew that lip off, I may need it later."

"We really do know each other's tells, don't we Jane?"

"Mmm-hmm. Talk, Maura."

"I was just remembering something that happened many years ago. Your meeting with Mrs. DiNucci reminded me of it."

Jane stayed silent.

"I was doing my residence in forensic pathology at UCSF Medical Center, this was in… 2001."

"Did you choose San Francisco because you were gay?" Jane interrupted.

Maura looked puzzled.

"No. I went to there to work with Dr. Konovaliuk, who was probably the most gifted, but underappreciated forensic scientist of his generation. What a weird question, Jane."

The detective narrowed her eyes.

"You do know that San Francisco has the reputation of being the gayest city in the entire country."

Maura shrugged.

"I didn't find it to be any gayer than Boston or New York or any other large, liberal metropolis, but then again, I wasn't socializing much. I worked 80 to 90 hours a week and crashed in my apartment when I wasn't working. I didn't sleep with a single woman the entire time I lived there, nearly 2 years. In fact, I don't think I had a nonwork-related conversation during that period either, except for the basic social interactions needed to purchase groceries or pick up my dry cleaning."

Jane took her hand. "Go on, babe."

"I was really rundown and blamed it on the long hours, lack of sleep, poor eating habits, but then I started to feel unwell; weak, wheezy, pains in my back. I thought I had the flu, so I called in sick on a Friday and stayed in bed for the weekend."

Maura closed her eyes, she could vividly recall her small apartment in Russian Hill with the bay windows overlooking a steeply tilted, tree-lined block and her bedroom, painted a pale lemon chiffon with a mission bed and framed Klimt print.

"By Sunday, I knew it wasn't the flu. I was coughing up bloody froth and was so weak that it took all of my strength to get out of bed and walk the 15 feet to the bathroom. I called in a prescription for a strong antibiotic and had it delivered. I sat on the floor in front of my apartment to wait for delivery, because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get out of bed again to answer the door."

"Maura, why didn't you go to the doctor?"

"I am a doctor."

Jane shook her head.

"I got my meds and took one pill. I literally crawled back to my bedroom and lay on the floor for an hour before I could summon the strength to get back into bed."

She took a deep steadying breath.

"Sometime that night, I realized that I was dying. I lay in my bed, unable to breathe, unable to get up to get to the toilet, I… I soiled my sheets..."

"Oh, babe." Jane kissed her hand.

"I understood that this was probably it for me. I was going to die alone and my death would matter to no one. I felt bad for whoever would find me, some stranger, a police officer I guessed, who would answer a call about a bad smell coming from a house on Mason Street. You've answered many of those calls, Jane."

"Yes, I have."

"I was so afraid, Jane, lying there in the dark and waiting to die, struggling for every breath. I know I cried for my mother, most people do at the end. It seemed to go on forever, the crushing pain in my chest, the powerlessness and then it was over. I remember the last painful inhalation and how the room grew dark from the sides in, like walking into a tunnel and that was it."

"What happened?"

"The delivery boy from the pharmacy came back after his shift. He was a pre-med student and he understood how sick I was."

"Pneumonia?"

"Yes. I was in the hospital for 5 weeks, in ICU for 3."

"You're here now with me, Maura, and I promise you will never be alone again. I swear it."

"I know, Jane."

Jane grappled with the surging emotions that boiled and simmered in her heart. She had been stripped naked this past weekend, a lifetime of defenses torn away and yet she had to find a way to make her weak, bare soul a shelter for this woman that she loved.

She wished she was a poet so she would have the words to go with the feelings that swelled in her heart, but she was only a cop with an associate's degree from a crappy community college and a foul mouth.

"Maura… I would go back in time, if I could, and stand beside you through every hurt. I would care for you and love you and hold you. We can't go back, but I will be beside you from here on. I'll be your friend, your lover, your protector, your constant companion for as long as…."

Her voice broke and before she could recover it, Maura had covered her mouth with her own. The words that jumbled and stuck in her throat were spoken eloquently with her lips moving softly and silently against Maura's.

They broke apart and Maura got up to wash her face, returning with a glass of water and four aspirin tablets.

"Tears at bedtime lead to puffy eyes in the morning. These will help."

She swallowed two tablets and passed the glass and the remaining two to Jane.

The detective reached behind her for the light switch, careful not to disturb Jo Friday, who was curled in a tan ball against her flank.

"You done, babe? Or do you want to read War and Peace in Russian or maybe do the Sunday Times crossword puzzle upside down before you go to sleep?"

"I'm done. You can turn the light off."

They lay in the darkness, holding hands. Jane knew by the doctor's quiet breathing that she was still entirely awake; when sleeping she snored softly and whistled through her nose.

"Whatcha thinking about?"

"I'm counting my blessings, Jane. Not in a religious way; I'm not a believer, but I am very grateful to have found you."

Jane pulled her close against her chest, wrapping an arm around her love's small waist. She closed her eyes and counted her own blessings until a gentle whistling told her Maura was sleeping and she allowed herself to drift off and join her.


End file.
